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THE 

YOUNG SPEAKER: 

AN INTRODUCTION TO THE 

UNITED STATES SPEAKER; 

DESIGNED TO FURNISH EXERCISES 

IN BOTH READING AND SPEAKING, 

FOR PUPILS BETWEEN THE AGES 

OF SIX AND FOURTEEN; 

COMPRISING SELECTIONS IN 

PROSE, POETRY, AND DIALOGUE, 

AND A VARIETY OF FIGURES 

ILLUSTRATING PRINCIPLES OF 
POSITION AND GESTURE. 

> 
BY JOHN E. LOVELL, 

t y { 

FORMERLY INSTRUCTOR OF ELOCUTION IN THE MOUNT PLEASANT 

CLASSICAL INSTITUTION, AMHERST, MASS. ; AND AUTHOR 

OF THE U. S. SPEAKER, RHETORICAL DIALOGUES, 

THE YOUNG PUPIL'S FIRST BOOK, AND YOUNG 

PUPIL'S SECOND BOOK, IN READING. 

NEW HAVEN: 
PUBLISHED BY DURRIE & PECK. 

1845. 



A* A* 



Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1844, by 

DURRIE & PECK, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Connecticut. 



f 



Printed bvJ.H BENHAM, 



bv J. H 
New Haven, 



PREFACE, 



This little work has been prepared for young students. It is divi- 
ded intone parts. 

Part First is designed to accomplish these objects : 1. To guard 
the pupil against errors in Pronunciation, which occur, not unfre- 
quently, in the conversation and reading of persons respectably edu- 
cated, 2. To make him acquainted with the names and uses of the 
grammatical and rhetorical Pauses. 3. To teach him the nature of 
Inflection, and the application of the simple slides to the most obvious 
and useful cases. 4. To acquaint him with the nature and impor- 
tance of Emphasis. 5. To instruct him as to the management of the 
Voice, and its adaptation to different kinds of composition. These 
lessons are brief and simple, so that few pupils who have reached 
their tenth year will find it difficult either to understand or apply them, 
while some even under that age may, it is believed, study them with 
advantage. 

Part Second comprises a set of lessons intended exclusively for 
Reading. They are of an instructive and interesting character ; well 
suited to cultivate a correct and graceful style of Elocution, and at the 
same time to improve the heart and enlighten the mind. Being chiefly 
in prose, they will, with the lessons in part fourth, balance any excess 
of poetry which may appear in the selections arranged for Recitation. 

Part Third. This division of the book constitutes its chief dis- 
tinctive feature. The lessons consist of short and interesting extracts 
in prose and poetry. They are designed as single pieces for Recitation. 
Not one of the whole number — more than one hundred and fifty — has 
been adopted without a careful examination as to its fitness for this 
object. The mere brevity of these selections gives them great value 
as exercises for beginners. The teacher who has been much engaged 
in instructing young persons to speak, will appreciate them for this 
peculiarity alone. But they possess other characteristics which enti- 
tle them to favor* They are, for the most part, on subjects interesting 
1* 



VI PREFACE. 

to the youthful mind, and expressed in language, plain, beautiful and 
easily understood. They are such, withal, as seem to prompt a ne- 
cessary and natural style of gesticulation. They have elicited a 
preference, in this respect, from among hundreds of other excellent 
pieces. It is in Gesture, that school-boys generally cut such a sorry 
figure. There is no propriety, no meaning, no elegance in their un- 
tutored action. It is almost uniformly a senseless, awkward, motonous 
" sawing of the air." 

With a desire to promote improvement, therefore, in this beautiful 
and important branch of the art of Speaking, a number of Figures, 
each exhibiting some appropriate gesture, have been introduced into 
this division of the Young Speaker. Each is applied to a particular 
passage and accompanied with an explanation. Next to the example 
of an accomplished instructor — who is not often to be obtained, for 
this subject has been most singularly neglected — no doubt, good pic- 
tures are the best medium of instruction. The idea is, that the pupil 
will be benefited thus ; — the gestures presented in these pictures will 
be impressed upon his imagination, and that he will address them to 
other similar passages, as occasion shall require, and ability direct. 
The plan is at least original ; how far it shall prove serviceable, must 
depend upon the fairness of experiment, and the intelligent judgment 
of others. 

Part Fourth comprises a set of Reading lessons in prose, cor«^ 
responding to those of part third; differing only in the advanced 
style of the composition. 

Part Fifth consists of Dialogues, with a few pieces arranged in 
that form, for alternate Speaking. They are, chiefly, short, interesting, 
and of a juvenile character. Teachers will please to keep in mind, ' 
that these lessons and those of part third, though selected with special 
reference to Recitation, are equally well adapted to the cultivation of 
a spirited, correct, and manly style of Reading. 

The work has been prepared for the use of a very interesting class 
of students, and with the hope, that it may inspire many a young mind 
with the love of moral and intellectual excellence, it is submitted to 
a candid public. 

J. E. L. 

New Haven, Nov. 5, 1844, 



CONTENTS. 



PART FIRST. 
DIRECTIONS FOR READING. 



Lesson. 

1. Pronunciation, 

2. Pause, 

3. Inflection, 

4. Emphasis, - 

5. The Voice, 



Page. 

13 
14 
16 
19 

20 



PART SECOND. 



LESSONS EXCLUSIVELY FOR READING. 



1. 

2. 
3. 
4. 
5. 
6. 



9. 
10. 
11. 
12. 
13. 
14. 
15. 
16. 
17. 
18. 
39. 



Clouds, - 


Anonymous, 


22 


Early Rising, - 


Mechelen. 


22 


A Drop of Dew, - 


Anonymous. 


23 


Divine Excellence, 


Mrs. Barbauld 


.24 


The Hundred and Third Psalm, - 


Bible. 


25 


The Cottage on Fire, 


Anonymous. 


26 


Cruelty to Insects, 


Percival. 


27 


Whiter, 


Anonymous. 


28 


Application, - 


Dodsley. 


29 


The Sloth and the Beaver, - Jf 


Percival. 


30 


Truth above all Things, 


Aikin. 


31 


The Seasons, - 


Mrs. Barbauld. 32 


The Nests of Birds, - 


Sturm. 


33 


Part of Christ's Sermon on the Mount, - 


Testament. 


35 


Filial Affection, 


Anonymous. 


37 


Tired of Play, 


Willis. 


38 


The Shetland Pony, - 


Anonymous. 


39 


Test of Goodness, 


Anonymous. 


41 


Remembrance of God, - 


Wood. 


42 



via 



CONTENT S. 



Lesson. 

20. Inference Making, 

21. The Goldfinch, 

22. Winter, 

23. The Coral Island, 

24. Indian Gratitude, - 

25. Industry, - 

26. The Ant, 

27. Lokman, - 

28. The Hundred and Fourth Psalm, 

29. The Butterfly's Ball, - 

30. Hope and Memory, 

31. Self Denial, 

32. The Shepherd Boy and his Dog Shag, 

33. The Bright Firmament, 



Page. 

Aikin. 44 

Anonymous. 45 
Mrs. Barbauld. 47 
Aikin. 48 

Dwight. 50 

Bible. 52 

Cobbin. 53 

Aikin. 54 

Bible. 56 

Roscoe. 57 

Mrs. Sigourney. 58 
Miss Taylor. 60 
Anonymous. 62 
Mrs. Barbauld, 64 



PART THIRD. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING OR READING. 



1. 


Our Native Land, 


M. M. B. 


68 


2. 


Why Yield to Grief, - 


Anonymous. 


68 


3. 


Eternity, 


Hervey. 


69 


4. 


The Skater's Song, 


Anonymous. 


69 


5. 


Content, 


Anonymous. 


70 


6. 


Brutus on the Death of Cesar, 


Shakspeare. 


70 


7. 


Faint Not, 


Anonymous. 


71 


8. 


A Word in Kindness, - 


Anonymous. 


72 


9. 


Depend not on Earthly Bliss, 


Hervey. 


72 


10. 


The Arab Steed, 


Anonymous. 


73 


11. 


The Battle Call, - 


Percival. 


73 


12. 


You Cannot Conquer America, - 


Chatham. 


74 


13. 


Care of the Deity, 


Anonymous. 


74 


14. 


Joseph Lancaster, 


Mrs.Fitzgerald75 


15. 


The Rainbow, 


Hervey. 


76 


16. 


The Creator's Works, - 


Anonymous. 


76 


17. 


Meet the Foe, 


Percival. 


77 


18. 


National Greatness, 


Harper. 


77 


19. 


The Three Doves, 


Aldrich. 


78 


20. 


The Captive Chief, 


Palmer. 


79 


21. 


Speech of Logan, 


Ashe. 


79 


22. 


A Mother's Love, 


Miss Taylor. 


80 


23. 


The Patriot Warrior's Dirge, 


Anonymous. 


81 


24. 


Reflections in a Vault, 


Hervey. 


82 


25. 


Frederick the Great, 


Haven. 


82 


26. 


Columbia, - 


Dwight. 


83, 


27. 


Address to the Young, 


Logan. 


83 


28. 


The Sleeper, 


Anonymous. 


84 





CONTENTS. 




IX 


Lessor 


. 




Page 


29. 


The Swiss Cowherd's Song, - 


Montgomery. 


84 


30. 


Influence of Our Country, 


Beman. 


85 


31. 


One good Turn deserves Another, 


Mrs. Gilman. 


86 


32. 


The Sailor's Departure, 


Miss Bailie. 


87 


33. 


Power of Death, - 


Crafts. 


87 


34. 


The Death Bed, ... 


Hood. 


88 


35. 


Life Without Freedom, 


Moore. 


89 


36. 


Jack Halyard's Speech, 


Cardell. 


89 


37. 


The Greek Islander in Exile, 


Mrs. Hemans. 


90 


38. 


Adversity, - - - - 


Anonymous. 


91 


39. 


To the Sea, - 


Keate. 


92 


40. 


A sudden Calm in the Pacific, 


Coleridge. 


92 


41. 


Ambition False and True, - 


Anonymous. 


93 


42. 


Reply to the Duke of Grafton, 


Thurlow. 


94 


43. 


An Infant killed by Lightning, 


Clare. 


95 


44. 


Aspirations of Youth, - 


Montgomery. 


96 


45. 


Indignant Rebuke, 


Chatham. 


96 


46. 


The Little Husbandman, 


Anonymous. 


97 


47. 


The Alarm, 


Whittier. 


98 


48. 


Why we do not Excel in Oratory, 


Knowles. 


99 


49. 


How old art Thou, 


L. H. C. 


99 


50. 


On laying the Corner Stone of the Bunker Hill 






Monument, - 


Pierpont. 


100 


51. 


Noble Inspiration, 


Hervey 


101 


52. 


On seeing Twins lying Dead, 


Montgomery. 


102 


53. 


The Sailor Boy's Farewell, 


Mrs. Hale. 


103 


54. 


Our Dear and Native Land, - 


Webster. 


103 


55. 


Liberty, - 


Percival. 


104 


56. 


A Picture, - 


Anonymous. 


105 


57. 


Song of Logan, 


Ashe. 


106 


58. 


A Child's Thoughts, 


Anonymous. 


107 


59. 


The War Song, 


Folsom. 


108 


60. 


Battle of Bunker Hill, 


Webster. 


108 


61. 


To my Sister, 


Thatcher. 


109 


62. 


Personal Influence, 


Hervey. 


110 


63. 


The Orphan, 


Anonymous. 


111 


64. 


America — her Example, 


Phillips. 


112 


65. 


The Charge, 


Percival. 


113 


66. 


The Snow Storm, 


Smith. 


114 


67. 


Strike for Liberty, 


Anonymous. 


115 


68. 


The Light of Home, 


Mrs. Hale. 


115 


69. 


God's Care of us, 


Chalmers. 


116 


70. 


The Atheist and Acorn, 


Watts. 


117 


71. 


Read the Sky, 


Miss Roscoe. 


118 


72. 


Adams and Jefferson, 


Webster. 


119 


73. 


Applause of War. 


Knowles. 


120 


74. 


Vengeance, - 


Percival. 


121 


75. 


Story of Joseph, 


Sprague. 


122 


76. 


Ulysses's Dog, - 


Anonymous. 


123 


77. 


The Warrior's Wreath, 


Anonymous. 


124 


78. 


Advocating the Revolution, - 


Quincy. 


124 


79. 


Death and the Youth, - 


Miss Landon 


. 125 


80. 


Speech of Judas, - 


Josephus. 


126 



Lesson. 

81. 
82. 
83. 
84. 
85. 
86. 
87. 
88. 
89. 
90. 
91. 
92. 
93. 
94. 
95. 
96. 
97. 
98. 
99. 

100. 

101. 

102. 

103. 

104. 

105. 

106. 

107. 

108. 

109. 

110. 

111. 

112. 

113. 

U4. 

115. 

116. 

117. 

118. 

119. 

120. 

121. 

122. 

123. 

324. 

125. 

126. 

127. 

128. 

129. 

130. 

131. 

132. 

133. 



CONTENTS. 








Page 


The Butterfly Beau, - 


- 


Anonymous. 127 


Virtue, - 


-. 


Price. 128 


Friends Separated by Death, 


- 


Montgomery. 129 


The Existence of God, 


- 


Maxcy. 130 


The Lost Boy, 


- 


Anonymous. 131 


Death and Immortality, 


- 


Anonymous. 132 


Rolla's Speech, 


- 


Sheridan. 133 


Dreaming in Captivity, 


- 


Mrs. Hemans. 134 


Responsibility of the American Citizen, 


Webster. 135 


Glory of Washington, 


- 


Brougham. 136 


Home, 


- 


Anonymous. 137 


The Nursery Tale, 


- 


Bayley. 138 


Union — Washington, 


- 


Russell. 139 


The Dog, 


- 


Mrs.Sigourney 139 


The Beggar and his Dog, 


- 


Wolcot. 141 


The Death of the Flowers, - 


m 


Miss Bowles. 141 


We must Fight, 


- 


Henry. 143 


The Blind Mother, 


- 


Anonymous. 143 


The Hills, - 


- 


Anonymous. 145 


Eulogium on Dr. Franklin, - 


. 


Mirabeau. 146 


The Chiles Wish in June, 


- 


Mrs. Gilman. 147 


The Pauper's Death Bed, 


. 


Mrs. Southey. 148 


Man Immortal, 


- 


Montgomery. 149 


The Queen of France, 


- 


Burke. 150 


Our Flag, - 


- 


Percival. 151 


The Blind Boy, - 


• 


Hawkes. 152 


Think on the Poor, 


- 


Anonymous. 153 


Influence of Superior Minds, 


- 


Sprague. 154 


The Orphan, 


- 


Anonymous. 15* 


Saul, before his last Battle, - 


• 


Byron. 156 


Summer, 


• 


Hunt. 157 


The Life Boat, 


. 


Mrs. Osgood. 158 


The Perfect Speaker, - 


• 


Anonymous. 15£ 


The Pirate's Song, 


- 


Anonymous. 15£ 


The Imprisoned Eagle, 


- 


Anonymous. 16C 


The Sailor Boy's Dream, 


- 


Anonymous. 161 


The Warrior Father, - 


- 


Mrs. Hale. 163 


Mary's Grave, 


- 


Roscoe. 164 


God governs in the affairs of Men, 


Franklin. 16* 


The Noble Sailor, 


• 


Rindge. 166 


The Boy's Return to his Home, 


• 


Waterman. 16 "J 


Importance of Oratory, 


- 


Knowles. 168 


The Beauties of Creation, 


- 


Heber. 169 


Cassabianca, 


. 


Mrs. Hemans. 17C 


The Ship, - 


. 


Anonymous. 17S 


The Snow, 


. 


Knight. lie 


Old Ironsides, 


. 


Holmes. 175 


Survivors of the Revolution, - 


- 


Webster. 175 


Intemperance, 


. 


Anonymous. 176 


The Storm, 


. 


Anonymous. 17*3 


The Flight of the Muskogee Indian, 


Anonymous. 178 


National Character, 


. 


Maxcy. 17S 


I '11 Drink no More, - 


- 


Anonymous. 18C 





CONTENTS. 




XI 


Lesaoru 




Page. 


134. 


Union — Liberty, - 


Anonymous. 


181 


135. 


Patience Recommended, 


Bolingbroke. 


182 


136. 


The Inquiry, - 


Anonymous. 


183 


137. 


The Voice of the People, 


Knowles. 


184 


138. 


Take Heed, 


Anonymous. 


185 


139. 


War Song of the Greeks, 


Proctor. 


186 


140. 


Birth Day of Washington, 


Webster. 


187 


141. 


Old Winter, - 


Moore. 


188 


142. 


The Land of our Birth, 


Anonymous. 


189 


143. 


The Wind in a Frolic, - 


Howit. 


190 


144. 


The Rainbow, - 


Amelia. 


191 


145. 


Parental Responsibility, 


Anonymous. 


193 


146. 


The Little Shroud, 


Miss Landon 


. 194 


147. 


Wings, 


Hervey. 


195 


148. 


Adams and Jefferson, 


Everett. 


196 


149. 


Plea of the Indian, - 


Anonymous. 


197 


150. 


Encourage Emigration, 


Henry. 


198 


151. 


Christmas Times - 


Moore. 


199 


152. 


The Country of Washington, 


Webster. 


201 


153. 


On the Death of a Boy, 


Anonymous, 


202 


154. 


The Awakening of the Wind, 


Anonymous. 


203 


155. 


A Death Bed, 


J. Aldrich. 


204 



PART FOURTH. 



LESSONS EXCLUSIVELY FOR READING. 



1. 


A Noonday Walk, 


Mrs.Barbauld. 206 


2. 


Charity, - 


Testament. 207 


3. 


The Rainbow, - 


Sturm. 207 


4. 


Night's Lessons, 


Mrs.Sigourney.20S 


5. 


The Blessedness of Heaven, - 


Mrs.Barbauld. 210 


6. 


Profane Swearing, 


Wood. 211 


7. 


The Horse, 


Anonymous. 212 


8. 


Humanity, - 


Anonymous. 213 


9. 


Improve the Intellect, 


Mrs.Barbauld, 215 


10. 


Difference between Man and the Inferior AnimalSjMiss Taylor. 217 


11. 


The Apostle Paul's Defense, - 


Testament. 218 


12. 


Lying, - 


Wood. 220 


13. 


Lord William, - 


Southey. 222 


14. 


The War of the Revolution, 


Cardell. 225 


15. 


Humming Birds, - - 


Anonymous. 229 


16. 


A Worthy of the Revolution, 


Cardell. 231 


17. 


Death of a Conqueror, 


Bible. 234 


18. 


The Generous Russian Peasant, - 


Karamsin. 235 


19. 


Parental Instruction, 


Law. 237 


20. 


Picture of a Youth, 


Hardie. 239 



xu 



CONTE N TS. 



Lesson 

21. Damon and Pythias, 

22. The Almighty, 

23. Mortality, 

24. Immortality, 

25. Influence of Knowledge, 

26. A Noble Boy, 

27. Indian Resolution, 

28. Washington a Teacher to the Young, 

29. The Duties of School Boys, - 



Paga 

Brooke. 241 

Scriptures. 243 
Mrs.Barbauld. 246 
Mrs.Barbauld. 246 
/. j&ese. 247 

TF*7«*. 249 

Irving. 250 

Anonymous. 252 
JKoZ/m. 260 



PART FIFTH. 
DIALOGUES FOR SPEAKING OR READING. 



1. 


Choice of Hours, 


Mrs. Gilman. 


260 


2. 


Conscience, - 


Anonymous. 


260 


3. 


Freedom's Jubilee, 


Hewitt. 


261 


4. 


Hot Cockles, ... 


Anonymous. 


262 


5. 


The Child's First Grief, 


Mrs. Hemans 


.263 


6. 


Children's Wishes, 


Mrs. Gilman. 


2&4 


7. 


Things by their Right Names, 


Aikin. 


265 


8. 


War Song of the Revolution, 


Anonymous. 


267 


9. 


Winter, - 


Anonymous. 


268 


10 


The Children's Choice, 


Mrs. Gilman, 


269 


11. 


Life, Death, and Eternity, 


Anonymous. 


270 


12. 


The World, 


Anonymous. 


271 


13. 


The Land of the Blest, 


Mrs. Abdy. 


272 


14. 


Man and Woman, 


Montgomery. 


274 


15. 


Stranger and Child, 


Mrs. Hemans 


.275 


16. 


Canute's Reproof, - 


Aikin. 


277 


17. 


The Brothers, 


Sprague. 


278 


18. 


Indian Chant, - 


Schoolcraft. 


279 


19. 


Patriotism, - 


Bretson. 


280 


20. 


The Chamber of Sickness, 


Colton. 


281 


21. 


Father's Birth Day, 


- Miss Edgeworth 283 


22. 


King Alfred and the Peasant, 


Knowles. 


284 


23. 


American Boy and English Boy, * 


{ Mrs. Gilman, 

1 Mrs.Hemans. 

Mrs. Gilman. 


287 


24. 


Choice of Countries, 


288 


25. 


The Two Robbers, 


Aikin. 


290 


26. 


Tell's Meeting with his Patriot Friends, 


Knowles. 


291 


27. 


The Little Rebels, 


Anonymous. 


293 


28. 


Alfred the Great, -'••»-«« 


Aikin* 


295 



THE 



YOUNG SPEAKER 



PART FIRST, 



DIRECTIONS FOR READING. 

Note. Teachers may, perhaps, think it sufficient to require their 
younger pupils to read to them, occasionally, the lessons of this part ; but 
the older ones would, no doubt, find it profitable to commit to memory those 
on Pause, Inflection, and Emphasis. 



LESSON I. 
PRONUNCIATION. 

1. Give to every letter its proper sound. 

2. In particular give a full sound to the vowels a, e, i, 
o, u. 

3. Be careful not to drop the g, in words ending in ing ; 
if you drop that letter, you will be found saying momin for 
morning ; puddin for pudding ; jiyin for flying, and the like. 
This is a very common fault. 

4. Another fault equally common is to sound ow, like ur: 
thus many say windur instead of window ; pillur instead of 
pillow ; feller instead of fellow, and so on. 

5. It is likewise very incorrect to give the sound of r at 
the end of words where the letter itself is not found. Some 
persons say sawr for saw ; lawr for law ; idear for idea, and 
thus in other words of the same class. 

6. There are other words in which the sound of r is as 
improperly changed ; thus we often hear xoaw for war ; stah 
for star ; haus for horse, and so on. 

2 



14 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

7. Do not omit to sound any letter which should be sound- 
ed. In this way injury is often done to such words as every, 
several, vessel, memory, and numerous others ; being improp- 
erly pronounced evWy, several, vessel, memory, and so forth. 

8. Do not drop the d in the word and, nor say git for get; 
yit for yet ; fust for first ; bust for burst ; bile for boil ; hoss 
for horse; idee for idea; He for oil; jest for just; jine for 
join ; ketch for catch ; kittle for kettle ; line for loin ; pint for 
point ; sich for such ; yunder for yonder ; shet for shut ; fur 
for far; ben for been, pronounced bin; doos for does, pro- 
nounced duz; agin for again, pronounced agen; ware for 
were, pronounced wur, and the like. Of many frequent faults 
in pronunciation, those mentioned above are some of the 
least excusable, and I hope all my young readers and speak- 
ers will be careful to avoid them. 



LESSON II. 

PAUSE. 

1. Pay particular attention to the grammatical stops and 
other pauses. No person can read well without observing 
this rule. 

2. At the comma printed thus 9 you may stop till you can 
pronounce one. 

3. At the semicolon printed thus J you may stop till you 
can pronounce one two. 

4. At the colon printed thus : you may stop till you can 
pronounce one two three. 

5. At the period printed thus • you may stop till you can 
pronounce one two three four. 

6. At the interrogation printed thus ? and at the exclama- 
tion printed thus ! you may stop about as long as at a colon. 

7. The parenthesis printed thus ( ) requires a stop at its 
beginning and end about as long as at a comma. 

8. At the dash printed thus — you should generally stop 
about as long as at a semicolon, and sometimes even as long 
as at a period. When it is added to either of the other stops, 
it increases the length of that stop. 

9. The pause at the end of a paragraph should be longer 
than at the end of an ordinary sentence. 



DIRECTIONS FOR READING. 15 

Note. The foregoing rules are as good, perhaps, as can be given : but the 
time occupied in pausing at each of the stops, will sometimes vary, no doubt , 
from that which has been directed. It must depend upon the nature of what 
is read. 

10. It is frequently proper to pause where none of the 
grammatical stops are inserted : In the examples which fol- 
low, the places of pause will be marked by the dash. These 
are called rhetorical pauses. 

11. After the nominative case, when it consists of more 
than one word, or of one important word, a pause is necessa- 
ry ; thus 

The price of improvement — ■ — is labor. 
Washington was a great and good man. 

12. When other words come between the nominative case 
and the verb, they should be separated from both by a short 
pause ; thus 

Trials in this state of being are the lot of man. 

That course if persevered in will secure the prize. 

13. Before the prepositions in, of, with, from, to, beyond, 
and the like, a short pause is often proper ; thus 

Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth. 

We found him with his faithful dog in the wood. 

14. Before the relatives who, which, what, and that, the 
adverb how, and that used as a conjunction, a short pause gen- 
erally occurs ; thus 

Honor thy father and thy mother that thy days may be long upon 

the land which the Lord who is thy God, hath given thee. 

Tell me how did the accident happen. 

15. The infinitive mood generally requires a short pause 
before it ; thus 

He left the room to see whether all was secured. 

His highest enjoyment was to relieve the distressed. 

16. Words placed in opposition to each other should be 
distinguished by a short pause ; thus 

Some place the bliss in action, some in ease ; 

Those call it pleasure, and contentment these* 



16 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

LESSON III. 
INFLECTION. 

1. If you will pronounce the following question with in- 
terest you will readily perceive that the voice slides upward 
in sounding the word rain : Does it rain ? And in the answer 
iVo, you will as readily perceive that it slides downward. 
This is called inflection. Inflection is heard in the note of a 
bird when it seems to cry " sweet" 

2. Inflection then is that sliding up or sliding down of the 
voice which is heard in finishing the pronunciation of a word. 

3. There are two simple inflections of the voice, the up- 
ward called the rising inflection, and the downward called the 

falling inflection. 

4. The mark for the rising inflection is printed thus;. 

/ 
Does it rain ? 

5. The mark for the falling inflection is printed thus ; 
\ 

No. 

6. Other examples. 

/ \ 

Was he obedient, or disobedient 1 

\ / 

He was obedient, not disobedient. 

/ \ 

Bid he act politely, or impolitely 1 

\ / 

He acted politely, not impolitely. 

/ \ 

Was he treated kindly, or unkindly % 

\ / 

He was treated kindly, not unkindly. 

7. All questions may be divided into two kinds, called the 
direct and indirect. 

8. The direct question is that which can be answered by 
yes or no : this question is read with the rising slide ; thus 

/ \ 

Were you treated kindly ? We were. 

9. The indirect question is that which cannot be answered 
by yes or no : this question is read with the falling slide ; 
thus 

\ \ 

Who treated you kindly ? Our teacher. 



DIRECTIONS FOR READING. 17 

10. The answers to all questions are read with the falling 
slide. 

11. In affirmative sentences, at the semicolon, colon, and 
period, the falling slide generally occurs ; thus 

\ \ 

God is in every place ; he speaks in every sound we hear : he is seen in 

\ 
all that our eyes behold. 

12. At the comma before either of these stops, the rising 
slide commonly takes place ; thus 

/ / 

As for man, his days are as grass : as a flower of the field, so he flour- 
isheth. 

13. In negative sentences the thing denied generally takes 
the rising slide ; thus 

/ / 

I cannot help it ; the fault is not mine. 

/ / 

I can accept of no excuse for profanity and falsehood. 

14. The following examples contain both affirmation and 
negation; thus 

\ / 

I came to bury Caesar, not to praise him. 

\ / 

You were paid to fight against Alexander, not to rail at him. 

15. In affirmative sentences expressing opposition, the 
first part takes the falling slide, and the latter the rising ; 
thus 

\ 

It we have no regard for our own character, we ought to have some re- 

/ 
gard for the character of others. 

\ / 

Write them together ; yours is as fair a name ; 

\ / 

Sound them ; it doth become the mouth as well, 

16. Words denoting an address, generally take the rising 

slide; thus 

/ 
John, fetch me your new book. 

/ / / 

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears, 

17. The language of grief pity, affection, and the like, in- 
clines the voice to the rising slide ; thus 

/ / 

And he said, God be gracious unto thee, my son. 

2* 



18 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

/ / 

Poor youth ! the cares of the world have come early upon him, observed 

/ 

the father. 

18. At the rhetorical pause, the rising slide generally oc- 
curs ; thus 

/ 

Lancaster — was the friend of youth. 

/ 
That boy's desire is — to succeed in his studies. 

19. When the word or expresses uncertainty, it takes the 
rising slide before and the falling after it ; thus 

/ \ 

Was John a good or a bad boy 1 

/ \ 

It was either Thursday or Friday. 

20. The language of command, reproof, threat, and the 
like, requires the falling slide ; thus 

\ > 

Go ; study ; and deserve my good opinion. 

\ \ 

His lord answered, and said unto him, thou wicked and slothful servant. 

21. When a word is repeated with stress, it generally 
takes the falling slide ; thus 

/ \ 

John, John, bring me the prize composition. 

\ \ 

It is unjust, I say it is unjust t& treat him so. 

22. The exclamation, in general, denotes the falling slide, 
except where much feeling is expressed, or when it implies a 
question or the repetition of one ; thus 

\ 

How blessed is that man who puts his trust in God ! 

/ -A 

A liar ! oh, what a fault is that my children ! 

Will you forever Athenians, do nothing but walk up and down the city, 
asking one another, tc what news ?" — what news ! 

23. The parenthesis receives the same inflection at its 
close as that which immediately precedes it, whether rising or 
falling. It should also be read in a lower tone of voice, and 
somewhat quicker than the rest of the sentence ; thus 

/ / 

Industry — (however good may be his talents) — will be necessary to com- 
plete success. 



DIRECTIONS FOR READING. 19 

Then went the captain with the officers, and brought them without 

\ \ 

violence — (for they feared the people lest they should have been stoned) — 
and when they had brought them they set them before the council. 

24. When several nouns, alone or connected with other 
words, begin a sentence and do not end it, each takes the fall- 
ing slide except the last ; thus 

\ / 

Dependence and obedience belong to youth. 

\ \ / 

The young, the healthy, and the prosperous, should not presume on their 
advantages. 

25. When several nouns, alone or connected with other 

words, end a sentence, each takes the rising slide except the 

last ; thus 

/ \ 

The spirit of true religion breathes gentleness and affability. 

/ / 

Industry is the law of our being ; it is the demand of nature, of reason, 

\ 

and of God. 



LESSON IV. 

EMPHASIS. 

1. Emphasis is a certain stress of voice given to a par- 
ticular word or words in a sentence to bring out their meaning 
in the best manner. 

2. The words which receive the emphasis are generally 
in opposition to other words expressed or implied. 

3. This sentence — Shall you ride to town to-day ? — will 
show the nature and importance of emphasis. 

4. It is capable of being taken in four different senses, 
according as the emphasis is laid. The emphatic word is 
marked in italics ; thus 

Shall you ride to town to-day 1 
Shall you ride to town to-day? 
Shall you ride to town to-day 1 
Shall you ride to town to-day ? 

5. Wherever there is inflection there is always some de- 
gree of emphasis, but the amount of it must depend upon the- 
importance of the words upon which it occurs ; thus 

\ / 

It was James not John who told the falsehood. 



20 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

LESSON V. 
THE VOICE. 

1. Every person has three fitches in his voice, the high, 
the middle, and the low one. 

2. The high is that which he uses in calling aloud to some 
person at a distance. 

3. The low is that which he uses when he speaks almost 
in a whisper. 

4. The middle is that which he employs in common dis- 
course, and which he should use in reading, 

5. The voice in reading should be the same as it would 
be in speaking on the same subject. 

6. In order to be well heard, observe a due degree of 
slowness ; pronounce every word and syllable distinctly ; a 
distinct manner will do more than mere loudness of sound. 

7. No person can read well if he read in a hurry. 

8. Nor on the other hand must the words drop from the 
lips in a faint and feeble manner. 

9. At the beginning of a paragraph, pitch the voice low, 
that it may be allowed gradually to swell ; and increase 
rather than diminish the sound at the end of each period. 

10. Let the voice be smooth and gentle, and not too 
noisy. 

11. A round mellow voice is pleasing both in speaking 
and reading. 

12. The voice in all cases should be made to suit the 
subject. 

13. Whether it be serious, familiar, gay or humorous, 
the voice should at all times correspond. 

14. It would be wrong to rejd a familiar piece in a 
mournful strain, or a serious one in a gay and lively man- 
ner. 

15. In particular — the sublime language of the sacred 
Scriptures should be read with a care and deliberation, befit- 
ting their solemn dignity and importance, and not in the 
familiar style of common conversation. 

16. Study to understand what you read, and you will 
probably read with taste and propriety. 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER, 



PART SECOND. 



LESSONS EXCLUSIVELY FOR READING. 




This Figure is intended to show the younger pupils the manner in 
which they may hold the book. It should be kept at a distance of from 
four to six inches from the breast, and in such a position that the whole 
face may always be seen. The little finger of each hand touches the edge 
of the back of the book nearly, while the other fingers are spread easily 
on the lids ; the corners of the book rest between the lower parts of the 
thumb and fore finger, and the thumbs themselves touch the inside of the 
book at about the middle of the bottom of the page. The older pupils 
will find a better mode for holding their books described on the first page 
of Part Fourth. 



22 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

LESSON I. 
CLOUDS. — Anonymous. 

How beautiful are the clouds at morn ; they look like ruby 
gems set round with gold • and the lark mounts toward them, 
and sings as if he were at heaven's gate. 

How bright are the clouds at mid-day, when high in the sky 
they hang, and show their pearly whiteness in the azure sky. 

At sunset they again are beautiful, and in the far west 
they take all hues and forms. Sometimes they look like 
towers and castles, high thrones and lofty palaces, of topaz 
and of gold. 

At night, when the moon shines on them, they look fair and 
white, and pure, and when all is hushed and still, seem like a 
flock of little lambs asleep. 

Yet what are clouds but vapors ? soon they pass away, 
soon they change : now they become dark with tempest ; 
now they swell in storm ; but then the bow of mercy is seen, 
and nature, in the midst of showers, is cheered. 

Life is like a cloud, fleeting and changeable : to-day it is 
gay and bright, to-morrow it is dark and full of gloom ; yet 
again the sun shines upon it, and it sinks to its rest in peace* 

What gives to the clouds their brightness and their beauty ? 
it is the sun that lights them, gilds them with his beams, and 
paints them with his smiles. 

What gives to life its glory 1 it is the smile of Him who 
formed the clouds to water the earth with rain, and to refresh 
all plants and herbs. 

It is He who gives to life's morning its bright joys ; who in 
manhood's prime, exalts us and sustains ; who in the storm 
and darkness, like the rainbow, smiles upon us ; and who at 
even time, when death would draw his curtains round us, 
brightens the soul with hope. 



LESSON II. 

EARLY RISING.— Mechelen. 

I beg you will accustom yourself to early rising, all your 
lifetime. This habit has many great advantages: in the 



LESSONS FOR READING. 23 

first place, it is necessary for our health ; and in the next 
place, it gives us more time for our occupations. One hour 
more employed in a day, makes a great deal of time at the 
end of a single year; it is snatched as it were from death. 
Yes, my children, think that sleep is a kind of death, and the 
time that we can deprive ourselves of it, is a time really ac- 
quired. You will understand this better by a supposition, 
which may afford you pleasure. 

Let us suppose that Peter and Paul both died at the age of 
sixty. Peter has, however, found means to live a much 
longer time than Paul, and this is the method he pursued : 
Paul never rose till nine in the morning ; Peter, on the con- 
trary, was up every day at five. These two men went to 
bed every night at ten, therefore Peter's day was seventeen 
hours long, and Paul's was only thirteen ; this made a differ- 
ence of four hours in a day. Four hours in a day, make at 
the end of a year, fourteen hundred and sixty hours, which 
is a hundred and twelve days, at the rate of thirteen hours 
each, which was the length of the day Paul enjoyed. You 
clearly perceive, my children, this is nearly the third of a 
year more for Peter. But let us continue, and you will be 
surprised at the time Paul lost. At the end of sixty years, 
Peter had by his diligence, gained six thousand seven hun- 
dred and twenty days, which make eighteen years and eight 
months. 

Observe that these eigtheen years and eight months, are 
taken from the time that Paul was increasing in years. I do 
not, in this calculation, comprehend the time which nature 
requires us to allot to sleep. In order to shake off the re- 
mains of a sleep likely to be troublesome, get up immedi- 
ately. Reflect, and endeavor to appreciate the value of 
time, and I am certain you will never allow yourselves to lose 
much of a life so short. 



LESSON III. 
A DROP OF DEW.— Anonymous. 

Behold yon drop of crystal dew, which hangs pendent 
from a blade of grass. How it sparkles in the sun ! it looks 
like a little star in the green mead. 



24 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

" Whence comest thou, little diamond drop ? and why 
comest thou ? I have seen thee as a pure gem on buds and 
leaves, and flowers, making all bright and cheerful about thee. 

" Sometimes thou liest like a deep fond tear, in the snow- 
drop's bell, and one would almost think the flowers did weep, 
were you not so bright and they so gay." 

" I came from the sea, my child ; from the place of pearls 
and shells, and gems ; from dark rocks and whirling sands ; 
from coral caves and diamond mines, — but I had no light from 
them. 

" The sun called me from the deep sea, that I might rejoice 
in his light. I arose at his call, and leaving the salt and bitter 
ocean, became pure and clear ; and then he threw his beams 
upon me to make me bright. 

" I came not for my own good, but that I might do good to 
others. I moisten the blighted plant, and it springs up again. 
I restore the withered flower. I call the dying unto life. 

"So hast thou been called from the dust, my child, by the 
God who made thee. So must thou rise to welcome His light 
and love. So must thou shed blessings and comfort around 
thee, sweet child. 

Look at me again, do you not see that while I sparkle, the 
whole image of the sun is reflected in me. 

" So beameth the spirit of God in thine own soul ; so will 
his light illumine thy heart, and so will his image be reflect- 
ed from thee, if thou art His child. 

" So wilt thou give new life, and joy, and peace, to all 
around ; comfort the stricken heart, brighten the darksome 
breast, and be a solace to those that droop and mourn." 



LESSON IV. 
DIVINE EXCELLENCE —Barbauld. 

Come, and I will show you what is beautiful. It is a Rose 
fully blown. See how she sits upon her mossy stem, like the 
queen of all the flowers ! Her leaves glow like fire ; the air 
is filled with her sweet odor ; she is the delight of every eye. 

She is beautiful ; but there is & fairer than she. He that 
made the rose is more beautiful than the rose : he is all love- 
ly ; he is the delight of angels and of men. 



LESSONS FOR READING. 25 

I will show you what is strong. The Lion is strong ; when 
he raises himself up from his lair, when he shakes his mane, 
when the voice of his roaring is heard, the cattle of the field 
fly, and the wild beasts of the desert hide themselves, for he is 
very terrible. 

The lion is strong ; but he that made the lion is stronger than 
he. His anger is terrible ; he could make us die in a mo- 
ment, and no one could save us out of his hand. 

I will show you what is glorious. The Sun is glorious. 
When he shines in the sky, — when he sits on his bright throne 
in the heavens, and looks abroad over all the earth, he is the 
most excellent and glorious creature the eye can behold. 

The sun is glorious ; but he that made the sun is more glori- 
ous than he. The eye beholds him not ; for his brightness is 
more dazzling than we could bear. He sees in all dark 
places, by night as well as by day ; and the light of his coun- 
tenance is over all his works. 

Who is this great Being, and what is his name ? — The name 
of this great Being, is God. He made all things, but he is 
himself more excellent than all which he has made. They 
are beautiful, but He is beauty; they are strong, but He is 
strength ; they are perfect, but He is perfection 



LESSON V. 
THE HUNDRED AND THIRD PSALM.— Bible. 

Bless the Lord, O my soul ! and all that is within me, bless 
his holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul ! and forget not 
all his" benefits ; — who forgiveth all thine iniquities ; who 
healeth all thy diseases ; who redeemeth thy life from de- 
struction ; who crowneth thee with loving kindness and 
tender mercies ; who satisfieth thy mouth with good things, so 
that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's. 

The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and plen- 
teous in mercy. He will not always chide, neither will he 
keep his anger forever. He hath not dealt with us after our 
sins, nor rewarded us according our iniquities. For as the 
heaven is high above the earth, so great is his mercy toward 
them that fear him. As far as the east is from the west, so 
far hath he removed our transgressions from us. Like as a 
3 



26 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 






father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear 
him ; for he knoweth our frame, he remembereth that we are 
dust. 

As for man, his days are as grass ; as a flower of the field, 
so he flourisheth : for the wind passeth over it, and it is gone ; 
and the place thereof shall know it no more. But the mercy 
of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting upon them that 
fear him, and his righteousness unto children's children; 
to such as keep his covenant, and to those that remember his 
commandments to do them. 

The Lord hath prepared his throne in the heavens ; and his 
kingdom ruleth over all. Bless the Lord, ye his angels, that 
excel in strength, that do his commandments, hearkening unto 
the voice of his word. Bless the Lord, all his works, in all 
places of his dominion. Bless the Lord, O my soul ! 



LESSON VI. 

THE COTTAGE ON FIRE.— Anonymous. 

The flames spread rapidly, — they had nearly consumed the 
habitation, from which farmer Ashford had, however, removed 
every article of consequence ; fortunately no lives were lost, 
and I was conversing with this good man, and listening to his 
grateful ejaculations on seeing his family safe, when the 
shouts of the surrounding laborers informed us, that a little 
cottage, adjacent to the farm, had taken fire. 

I ran towards the spot. — I saw the flames bursting from the 
casements. — Poor Randal, the laborer, who inhabited it, rush- 
ed forward ; he had borne his wife, and his boys through the 
flames, when a rafter, having fallen upon his arm, disabled 
him ; his wife, the image of despair, clasped her children to 
her bosom. Her husband watched the progress of the flames 
in stupid horror, then suddenly he started, and exclaimed, 
" My mother!" "My grandmother!" cried a fine boy of 
about twelve, and dashing amidst the spreading flames and 
falling rafters, remained deaf to the entreaties of those who 
considered his endeavors as hopeless. 

" My boy, my boy !" cried the father ; the mother sunk, 
fainting amidst the crowd ! But that Being, who animated this 
pure and generous-hearted little fellow, spread around him 



LESSONS FOR READING. 27 

his protecting shield. Edward appeared ; his aged grand- 
mother, supported on his arm, to which the occasion had given 
supernatural strength ; he cheered her, he sought to give her 
courage, unmindful of aught but the sacred charge he was 
preserving. 

Every tongue was silent ; the surrounding multitude scarce- 
ly dared to breathe, through agitation, dread, and awe. — They 
reached the door ; Edward supported her steps across the 
threshold, when the whole fabric fell in. A shout of joy, a 
murmur of applause, followed. — Edward was praised and 
blessed as a little hero ; while, with a countenance illumin- 
ed with happiness, he exclaimed, "She is safe! dear father ; 
my beloved grandmother is safe !" 

I cannot describe the scene that followed ; Randal looked 
around on his children, — their mother, and the dear partner of 
his heart, the venerable and respected author of his days, all, 
all were safe. "Oh no!" he cried, "merciless flames, I 
will not repine at your devastations ; myself and my Edward 
will work to renew whatever ye may destroy ! — and this 
night, dreadful as it has been, is not without its blessings, 
since it has proved the real worth of my Edward's heart." 



LESSON VII. 

CRUELTY TO INSECTS.— Percival. 

A certain youth indulged himself in the cruel entertain- 
ment of torturing and killing flies. He tore off their wings 
and legs, and then watched with pleasure their impotent at- 
tempts to escape from him. Sometimes he collected a number 
of them together, and crushed them at once to death ; glorying, 
like many a celebrated hero, in the devastation he committed. 
Alexis remonstrated with him in vain on this barbarous con- 
duct. He could not persuade him to believe that flies are 
capable of pain, and have a right, no less than ourselves, to 
life, liberty, and enjoyment. The signs of agony, which, 
when tormented, they express by the quick and various con- 
tortions of their bodies, he neither understood nor would at- 
tend to. — Alexis had a microscope, or glass, for enabling us 
to see small objects ; and he desired his companion one day 
to examine a most beautiful and surprising animal. Mark, 



28 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

said he, it is studded from head to tail with black and silver, 
and its body all over beset with the most curious bristles ! The 
head contains a pair of lively eyes, encircled with silver hairs : 
and the trunk consists of two parts, which fold over each other. 
The whole body is ornamented with plumes and decorations, 
which surpass all the luxuries of dress in the courts of the 
greatest princes. Pleased and astonished with what he saw, 
the youth was impatient to know the name and properties of 
this wonderful animal. It was withdrawn from the magnifier, 
and, when offered to his naked eye, proved to be a poor fly, 
which had been the victim of his wanton cruelty. 



LESSON VIII. 



WINTER.— Anonymous. 



December has come ! Winter is here ! These are com- 
mon-place words, but they mean more, perhaps, than we are 
apt to consider. 

Winter, then, means that the myriad leaves of the forest 
are shriveled and torn from the trees, and scattered in the val- 
ley : it means that the sap of the trees has ceased to flow, and 
that these giants of the vegetable world, have passed into a 
state of stupor, in which they must remain till spring again 
returns. 

Winter means that the myriad races of annual weeds and 
plants are dead, to revive again no more ; that myriads of blos- 
soms have faded forever from the view • that the verdure of 
the forest has passed away ; that the gemmed garment of the 
meadow is exchanged for the thin brown mantle of leanness 
and poverty ; that the velvet of the law T n has given place to 
the scanty covering of dried and faded grass. 

Winter means that the minstrelsy of the birds is gone, and 
that the field and forest, so lately cheered by a thousand forms 
and sounds of happy existence are now silent, or rendered 
more dreary and desolate by the moaning winds. It means 
that the birds are gone to their southern retreats ; that the 
myriad races of insects are dead ; that the whole generation of 
butterflies has perished ; that the grasshoppers have sung their 
last song ; that even the pensive cricket has gone to his long 
home. It means that death has breathed on our portion of the 



LESSONS FOR READING. 29 

world, and that nature herself, as if weary of her efforts, has 
fallen into a cold and fearful slumber. 

Winter means all these melancholy things ; but it also 
means something more. It means that the granary of the far- 
mer is full ; that his barn is supplied ; that there is good and 
ample store for the beasts that look to man for support, and for 
man himself. It means, too, that the comfortable fire will be 
kindled, around which the family will assemble, and where, 
secure from the bitter blast without, there will still be peace, 
comfort and content. It means, too, that there is such a thing 
as poverty, shivering without fire, without food — perhaps, 
without sufficient shelter ; and it means that charity should 
seek and save those who are suffering in such a condition. 

And winter means something more than all this : it means, 
by its examples of decay and death, to teach us that we, too, 
must pass away ; and that it is well for us to make prepara- 
tion for the great event. Winter also brings us to the end of 
the year, and suggests a serious self-inquiry, and self-exam- 
ination. It would ask us, if the last year has been one of 
profit or loss ? Are we better, and wiser, than when it began 1 
Are we more kind, more just, more patient, more faithful, 
more fond of truth ? Summer is the season for the harvest of 
the field ; winter is the season for the moral harvest of the heart. 
Let it not pass with any of us, as a barren and unproductive 
season, in which we neither sow nor reap the fruits of wis- 
dom and peace. 



LESSON IX. 
APPLICATION.— Dodsley. 

Since the days that are past are gone forever, and those 
that are to come may not come to thee, it behooveth thee, O 
man ! to employ the present time, without regretting the loss of 
that which is past, or too much depending on that which is to 
come. 

This instant is thine ; the next is in the keeping of futurity, 
and thou knowest not what it may bring forth. 

Whatsoever thou resolvest to do, do it quickly ; defer not till 
the evening what the morning may accomplish. 
3* 



30 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Idleness is the parent of want and of pain ; but the labor of 
virtue bringeth forth pleasure. 

The hand of diligence defeateth want ; prosperity and suc- 
cess are the industrious man's attendants. 

Who is he that hath acquired wealth, that hath risen to power, 
that hath clothed himself with honor, that is spoken of in the 
city with praise, and that standeth before the king in his coun- 
sel 1 Even he that hath shut out idleness from his house ^ 
and hath said unto sloth, Thou art mine enemy. 

He riseth up early and lieth down late ; he exerciseth his 
mind with contemplation, and his body with action ; and pre- 
serveth the health of both. 

The slothful man is a burden to himself; his hours hang 
heavy on his hand ; he loitereth about, and knoweth not what 
he would do. 

His days pass away like the shadow of a cloud ; and he 
leaveth behind him no mark for remembrance. 

His body is diseased for want of exercise ; he wisheth for 
action, but hath not power to move. His mind is in darkness : 
his thoughts are confused ; he longeth for knowledge, but 
hath no application. He would eat of the almond, but hateth 
the trouble of breaking its shell. 

His house is in disorder ; his servants are wasteful and 
riotous ; and he runneth on towards ruin : he seeth it with 
his eyes ; he heareth it with his ears ; he shaketh his head 
and wisheth^ but hath no resolution, till ruin cometh upon him 
like a whirlwind, and shame and repentance descend with 
him into the grave. 




LESSON X. 
THE SLOTH AND THE BEAVER.— Percivai*. 

The Sloth is an animal of South America ; and is so ill- 
formed for motion, that a few paces are often the journey of 
a week ; and so indisposed to move, that he never changes 
his place, but when impelled by the severest stings of hunger. 
He lives upon the leaves, fruit, and flowers of trees, and often 
on the bark itself, when nothing besides is left for his subsis- 
tence. As a large quantity of food is necessary for his sup- 
port, he generally strips a tree of all its verdure in less than 



LESSONS FOR READING. 31 

a fortnight ; and, being then destitute of food, he drops down 
like a lifeless mass, from the branches to the ground. After 
remaining torpid for some time, from the shock received by 
the fall, he prepares for a journey to some neighboring tree, 
to which he crawls with a motion almost imperceptible. At 
length arrived, he ascends the trunk and devours with fam- 
ished appetite whatever the branches afford. By consum- 
ing the bark, he soon destroys the life of the tree ; and thus 
the source is lost, from which his sustenance is derived. 
Such is the miserable state of this slothful animal. How dif- 
ferent are the comforts and enjoyments of the industrious 
Beaver ! This creature is found in the northern parts of 
America, and is about two feet long and one foot high. The 
figure of it somewhat resembles that of a rat. In the months 
of June and July, the beavers assemble and form a society, 
which generally consists of more than two hundred. They 
always fix their abode by the side of a lake or river ; and, in 
order to make a dead water above and below, they erect with 
incredible labor, a dam, or pier, perhaps fourscore or a hun- 
dred feet long, and ten or twelve feet thick at the base. When 
this dike is completed, they build their several apartments,, 
which are divided into three stories. The first is beneath the 
level of the mole, and is for the most part full of water. 
The walls of their habitations are perpendicular, and about 
two feet thick. If any wood project from them, they cut it 
off with their teeth, which are more serviceable than saws ; 
and by the help of their tails, they plaster all their works, 
with a kind of mortar, which they prepare of dry grass and 
clay mixed together. In August or September, they begin ta 
lay up their stores of food ; it consists of the wood of the 
birch, the plane, and of some other trees. Thus they pass 
the gloomy winter in ease and plenty. — These two American 
animals, contrasted with each other, afford a most striking pic- 
ture of the blessings of industry, and the penury and wretch- 
edness of sloth. 



LESSON XI. 
TRUTH ABOVE ALL THINGS.— Aikin. 

"Truth is the highest thing that man can keep," says the- 
good old English poet Geoffry Chaucer ; and in all times and 



32 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

places there have been some excellent people who have shown 
that they were resolved to keep it, whatever it might cost 
them. 

Abdool-Radir, a Persian boy, the son of a widow, desired 
leave of his mother to take a journey to Bagdat to seek his 
fortune ; she wept at the thoughts of the parting ; then, 
taking out forty of the gold coins called dinars, she gave 
them to him, telling him that was the whole of his inheritance. 
After this, she made him swear never to tell a lie ; then she 
bade him farewell. 

The boy set out upon his journey. On the road, the party 
with which he traveled was suddenly attacked by a great 
troop of robbers. One of them asked Abdool-Radir, what 
money he had got. " Forty dinars," he answered "are sew- 
ed up in my garments." The robber took this for a jest, and 
laughed. Another asked him the same question, and he 
made the same reply. When they began to divide the plun- 
der among them, he was called to the chief, who was standing 
on an eminence, and he too asked him what he had got. " I 
have told two of your men already," said he, " that I have 
forty dinars carefully sewed up in my clothes." The chief 
immediatley ordered the clothes to be ripped up, and the gold, 
was found. He was astonished. " How came you," said he, 
"to discover what had been so carefully hidden?" "Be- 
cause," replied Abdool-Radir, "I will not be false to my 
mother, to whom I have promised never to tell a lie !" " What, 
child!" said the chief, "hast thou, at thy age, such a sense 
of thy duty to thy mother, and have I at mine, so little sense 
of my duty to my God, as to lead the life of a robber !" Give 
me thy hand, innocent boy, that I may swear upon it to for- 
sake my evil ways." And he swore it; and his followers, 
all struck like him with sudden repentance, made the same 
vow ; and as the first fruits of it, returned to the travelers 
whatever they had taken from them. 



LESSON XII. 

THE SEASONS.— Barbauld. 

Who is this beautiful virgin that approaches, clothed in a 
robe of light green ? She has a garland of flowers on her 
head, and flowers spring up wherever she sets her foot. The 



LESSONS FOR READING. 33 

snow which covered the fields, and the ice which was on the 
rivers, melt away when she breathes upon them. The young 
lambs frisk about her, and the birds warble to welcome her 
coming ; when they see her, they begin to choose their mates, 
and to build their nests. Youths and maidens, have ye seen 
this beautiful virgin ? If ye have, tell me who she is, and 
what is her name. 

Who is this that cometh from the south, thinly clad in a light 
transparent garment Her breath is hot and sultry ; she 
seeks the refreshment of the cool shade, she seeks the clear 
streams, the crystal brooks, to bathe her languid limbs. The 
brooks and rivulets fly from her, and are dried up at her ap- 
proach. She cools her parched lips with berries and the 
grateful acid of fruits. The tanned haymakers welcome her 
coming ; and the sheep-shearer, who clips the fleeces off his 
flock with his sounding shears. When she cometh, let me lie 
under the thick shade of a spreading beech-tree, — let me walk 
with her in the early morning, when the dew is yet upon the 
grass, — let me wander with her in the soft twilight, when the 
shepherd shuts his fold, and the star of the evening appears. 
Who is she that cometh from the south ? Youths and maid- 
ens, tell me, if you know, who is she, and what is her 
name. 

Who is he that cometh with sober pace, stealing upon us 
unawares ? His garments are red with the blood of the grape, 
and his temples are bound with a sheaf of ripe wheat. His 
hair is thin, and begins to fall, and the auburn is mixed with 
mournful gray. He shakes the brown nuts from the tree. 
He winds the horn, and calls the hunters to their sport. 
The gun sounds. The trembling partridge, and the beauti- 
ful pheasant frutter, bleeding in the air, and fall dead at the 
sportsman's feet. Youths and maidens, tell me, if you know, 
who is he, and what is his name. 

Who is he that cometh from the north, in furs and warm 
wool ? He wraps his cloak close about him. His head is 
bald ; his beard is made of sharp icicles. He loves the bla- 
zing fire high piled upon the hearth, and the wine sparkling 
in the glass. He binds skates to his feet, and skims over the 
frozen lakes. His breath is piercing and cold, and no little 
flower dares to peep above the surface of the ground when he 
is by. Whatever he touches turns to ice. Youths and maid- 
ens, do you see him ? He is coming upon us, and soon will 
be here. Tell me, if you know, who is he, and what is his 
name. 



34 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

LESSON XIII. 

THE NESTS OF BIRDS— Sturm. 






How curious is the structure of the nest of the goldfinch 
or chaffinch ! The inside of it is lined with cotton and fine 
silken threads ; and the outside cannot be sufficiently admir- 
ed, though it is composed only of various species of fine moss. 
The color of these mosses, resembling that of the bark of the 
tree on which the nest is built, proves that the bird intended 
it should not be easily discovered. In some nests, hair, wool, 
and rushes, are dexterously interwoven. In some, all the 
parts are firmly fastened by a thread, which the bird makes 
of hemp, wool, hair, or more commonly of spiders' webs. — 
Other birds, as for instance the blackbird and the lapwing, 
after they have constructed their nest, plaster the inside with 
mortar, which cements and binds the whole together ; they 
then stick upon it, while quite wet, some wool or moss, to 
give it the necessary degree of warmth. — The nests of swal- 
lows are of a very different construction from those of other 
birds. They require neither wood, nor hay, nor cords ; they 
make a kind of mortar, with which they form a neat, secure, 
and comfortable habitation for themselves and their family. 
To moisten the dust of which they build their nests, they dip 
their breasts in water, and shake the drops from their wet 
feathers upon it. But the nests most worthy of admiration 
are those of certain Indian birds, which suspend them with 
great art from the branches of trees, to secure them from 
the depredations of various animals and insect*? In general, 
every species of birds has a peculiar mode of building : but 
it may be remarked of all alike, that they always construct 
their nests in the way that is best adapted to their security, 
and to the preservation and welfare of their species. 

Such is the wonderful instinct of birds with respect to the 
structure of their nests. What skill and sagacity ! what 
industry and patien ce do they display ! And is it not apparent 
that all their labors tend towards certain ends ? They con- 
struct their nests hollow and nearly round, that they may 
retain the heat so much the better. They line them with 
the most delicate substances, that the young may lie soft and 
warm. What is it that teaches the bird to place her nest in 
a situation sheltered from the rain, and. secure against the at* 



LESSONS FOR READING. 35 

tacks of other animals ? How did she learn that she should 
lay eggs, — that eggs would require a nest to prevent them 
from falling to the ground, and to keep them warm ? Whence 
does she know that the heat would not be maintained around 
the eggs if the nest were too large ; and that, on the other 
hand, the young would not have sufficient room if it were 
smaller ? By what rule does she determine the due propor- 
tions between the nest and the young, which are not yet in 
existence ? Who has taught her to calculate the time with 
such accuracy that she never makes a mistake, and produces 
her eggs before the nest is ready to receive them ? Admire 
in all these things the power, the wisdom, and the goodness of 
her Creator ! 



LESSON XIV. 

PART OF CHRIST'S SERMON ON THE MOUNT. 

Testament. 

Blessed are the poor in spirit : for theirs is the kingdom 
of heaven. 

Blessed are they that mourn : for they shall be comforted. 

Blessed are the meek : for they shall inherit the earth. 

Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after right- 
eousness : for they shall be filled. 

Blessed are the merciful : for they shall obtain mercy. 

Blessed are the pure in heart : for they shall see God. 

Blessed are the peace-makers : for they shall be called 
the children of God. 

Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' 
sake : for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 



Ye have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou 
shalt not kill ; and whosoever shall kill shall be in danger of 
the judgment : 

But I say unto you, That whosoever is angry with his broth- 
er without a cause, shall be in danger of the judgment ; and 
whosoever shall say to his brother, Raca, shall be in danger 
of the council ; but whosoever shall say, Thou fool, shall be 
in danger of hell-fire. 

Therefore, if thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there re- 
memberest that thy brother hath aught against thee j 



36 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way ; first 
be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift. 



Again, ye have heard that it hath been said by them of old 
time, Thou shalt not forswear thyself, but shalt perform unto 
the Lord thine oaths : 

But I say unto you, Swear not at all : neither by heaven • 
for it is God's throne : 

Nor by the earth ; for it is his footstool : neither by Jerusa- 
lem ; for it is the city of the great King : 

Neither shalt thou swear by thy head ; because thou canst 
not make one hair white or black. 

But let your communication be Yea, yea ; Nay, nay : for 
whatsoever is more than these cometh of evil. 



Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy 
neighbor, and hate thine enemy : 

But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that 
curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them 
which despitefully use you, and persecute you ; 

That ye may be the children of your Father which is in 
heaven : for he maketh the sun to rise on the evil and on the 
good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. 



Judge not, that ye be not judged. 

For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged : and 
with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you 
again. 



Therefore, whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and 
doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his 
house upon a rock : 

And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds 
blew, and beat upon that house ; and it fell not : for it was 
founded upon a rock. 

And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth 
them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man which built his 
house upon the sand : 

And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds 
blew, and beat upon that house ; and it fell : and great was 
the fall of it. 



LESSONS FOR READING. 37 

LESSON XV. 

FILIAL AFFECTION— Anonymous. 

Let the commands of your parents be ever sacred in your 
ears, and implicitly obeyed, where they do not contradict the 
commands of God. Pretend not to be wiser than they who 
have had so much more experience than you ; and despise 
them not, if haply you should be so blest as to have gained a 
degree of knowledge or of fortune superior to theirs. Let 
your carriage toward them be always respectful, your words 
always affectionate ; and especially beware of pert replies, 
and peevish looks. Never imagine, if they oppose your in- 
clinations, that this arises from anything but love to you ; but 
let the remembrance of what they have done, and suffered for 
you, preserve you from acts of disobedience, and from paining 
those good hearts which have already felt so much for you. 
Admire and imitate the following examples of filial love : — 

Boleslaus the Fourth, king of Poland, had a picture of his 
father, which he carried about his neck, set in a plate of gold; 
and when he was going to say or do any thing of importance, 
he took this pleasing monitor in his hand, and kissing it, used 
to say, " My dear father ! may I do nothing unworthy of thy 



name 



!» 



During an eruption of Mount Etna, the inhabitants of the 
adjacent country were obliged for safety to abandon their 
houses, and retire to a great distance. Amidst the hurry and 
confusion of the scene, while every one was carrying away 
whatever he deemed most precious, two sons, in the height 
of their solicitude to preserve their wealth and goods, recol- 
lected their father and mother, who were both very old, were 
unable to save themselves by flight. Filial tenderness set 
aside every other consideration. " Where," cried the gener- 
ous youths, " shall we find a more precious treasure than those 
who gave us being?" This said, the one took up his father 
on his shoulders, and the other his mother, and they thus 
made their way through the surrounding smoke and flames. 
The fact struck all beholders with admiration ; and ever 
since, the path they took in their retreat has been called " the 
Field of the Pious," in memory of this pleasing incident. 

While Octavius was at Samos, after the famous battle of 
Actium, which made him master of the world, he held a coun- 

4 



38 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

cil in order to try the prisoners who had been engaged in An- 
tony's party. Among the rest was brought before him Metel- 
lus, an old man oppressed with infirmities and ill fortune, 
whose son sat as one of the judges. At first the son did not 
recognize the father. At length, however, having recollected 
his features, the generous youth, instead of being ashamed to 
own him, ran to embrace the old man, and cried bitterly. 
Then, returning toward the tribunal, " Caesar," said he, "my 
father has been your enemy, and I your officer ; he deserves 
to be punished, and I to be rewarded. The favor I desire of 
you is, either to save him on my account, or to order me to be 
put to death with him." As was to be expected, all the judges 
were touched with pity at this affecting scene ; and Octavius 
himself, relenting, granted to old Metellus his life and lib- 
erty. 

The emperor Decimus, intending and desiring to place the 
crown on the head of Decius, his son, the young prince refused 
it in the most strenuous manner. " I am afraid," said he, 
" lest, being made an emperor, I should forget that I am a son. 
I had rather be no emperor and a dutiful son, than an empe- 
ror and a disobedient son. Let then mv father bear the rule; 
and this only be my empire, to obey with all humility what- 
soever he shall command me." Thus the solemnity was 
waived, and the young man was not crowned, — unless it be 
thought that this signal piety toward an indulgent parent 
was a more glorious diadem than the crown of an empire. 



LESSON XVI. 

TIRED OF PLAY.— Willis. 

Tired of play ! Tired of play ! 
What hast thou done this livelong day ! 
The birds are silent and so is the bee ; 
The sun is creeping up steeple and tree ; 
The doves have flown to the sheltering eaves, 
And the nests are dark with the drooping leaves ; 
Twilight gathers and day is done — 
How hast thou spent it — restless one ! 



LESSONS FOR READING. 39 

Playing ? But what hast thou done beside 
To tell thy mother at eventide ? 
What promise of morn is left unbroken ? 
What kind word to thy playmate spoken ? 
Whom hast thou pitied, and whom forgiven ? 
How with thy faults has duty striven 1 
What hast thou learned by field and hill, 
By greenwood path, and by singing rill ? 

There will come an eve to a longer day, 

That will find thee tired — but not of play ! 

And thou wilt lean, as thou leanest now, 

With drooping limbs and aching brow, 

And wish the shadows would faster creep, 

And long to go to thy quiet sleep. 

Well were it then if thine aching brow 

Were as free from sin and shame as now ! 

Well for thee if thy lip could tell 

A tale like this, of a day spent well. 

If thine open hand hath relieved distress — 

If thy pity hath sprung to wretchedness — 

If thou hast forgiven the sore offense, 

And humbled thy heart with penitence — 

If Nature's voices have spoken to thee 

With her holy meanings eloquently — 

If every creature hath won thy love — 

From the creeping worm to the brooding dove — 

If never a sad low-spoken word 

Hath plead with thy human heart unheard : 

Then when the night steals on, as now, 

It will bring relief to thy aching brow, 

And with joy and peace at the thought of rest, 

Thou wilt sink to sleep on thy mother's breast. 



LESSON XVII. 
THE SHETLAND PONY.— Anonymous. 

This diminutive breed of horses, many of which are not 
larger than a Newfoundland dog, is common in Shetland, and 
all the islands on the north and west of Scotland ; also in the 



40 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

mountainous districts of the mainland along the coast. They 
are beautifully formed, and possess prodigious strength in pro- 
portion to their size. The heads are small, with a flowing 
mane and a long tail, reaching to the ground. 

They are high-spirited and courageous little animals, but 
extremely tractable in their nature. Some of them run wild 
about the mountains, and there are various methods of catch- 
ing them, according to the local situation of the district which 
they inhabit. 

The shelties, as they are called, are generally so small, that 
a middling-sized man must ride with his knees raised to the 
animal's shoulders, to prevent his toes from touching the 
ground. It is surprising to see with what speed they will 
carry a heavy man over broken and zigzag roads in their na- 
tive mountains. 

When grazing, they will clamber up steep ascents, and to 
the extreme edge of precipices which overhang the most fright- 
ful abysses, and there they will gaze round with as much 
complacency as if on a plain. 

These horses, small as they may be, are not to be consid- 
ered a degenerate breed, for they are possessed of much great- 
er physical strength, in proportion to their size, than larger 
horses. They are called garrons in the highlands of Scot- 
land. 

A gentleman, sometime ago, was presented with one of these 
handsome little animals, which was no less docile than elegant, 
and measured only seven hands, or twenty-eight inches, in 
height. He was anxious to convey his present home as speed- 
ily as possible, but being at a considerable distance, was at a 
loss how to do so most easily. The friend said, " can you not 
carry him in your chaise?" He made the experiment, and 
the shelty was lifted into it, covered up with the apron, and 
some bits of bread given him to keep him quiet. He lay quite 
peaceable till he reached his destination ; thus exhibiting the 
novel spectacle of a horse riding in a gig. 

A little girl, the daughter of a gentleman in Warwickshire, 
England, playing on the banks of a canal which runs through 
his grounds, had the misfortune to fall in, and would in all 
probability have been drowned, had not a little pony, which 
had long been kept in the family, plunged into the stream 
and brought the child safely ashore, without the slightest 
injury. 

A gentleman had a white pony, which became extremely 
attached to a little dog that lived with him in the stable, and 



LESSONS FOR READING. 41 

whenever the horse was rode out, the dog always ran by his 
side. One day, when the groom took out the pony for exer- 
cise, and accompanied, as usual, by his canine friend, they 
met a large dog, which attacked the diminutive cur, upon 
which the horse reared, and to the astonishment of the by- 
standers, so effectually fought his friend's battle with his fore 
feet, that the aggressor found it for his interest to scamper 
off at full speed, and never again ventured to assail the small 
dog. 

Shelties sometimes attain a great age. There was, in the 
village of Haddington, England, a very small black pony, of 
this breed, which, at forty-seven years of age, looked remark-, 
ably fresh ; trotted eight miles an hour for several miles to- 
gether; had a very good set of teeth; eat corn and hay well; 
was able to go a long journey ; and had not, to appearance, 
undergone the least alteration, either in galloping, trotting, or 
walking, for twenty years preceding. 



LESSON XVIII. 

TEST OF GOODNESS.— Anonymous. 

The father of a family, being advanced in years, was de- 
sirous of settling his worldly affairs. Three sons remained 
living to inherit his estate. Having summoned them before 
him, he pointed out to each his allotted share, — reserving, 
however, a diamond of great value. " This," said he, " I have 
determined to bequeath to him who shall, within three months, 
give the most decided proof of his having performed an act of 
goodness " 

They departed accordingly, each in a different direction, to 
seek an opportunity of accomplishing an action, that might 
be deemed worthy of the proposed reward. At the time ap- 
pointed, they all returned, and presented themselves again 
before their venerable parent. 

"Father," said the oldest, "I found, during absence, a 
stranger so circumstanced, that he was under the necessity 
of intrusting me with the whole of his fortune. He had no 
written security from me, nor could he bring any proof of the 
deposite \ yet I faithfully returned him every shilling of the 
4# 



42 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

money. Does there not appear something meritorious in 
such an action ?" " Thou hast, indeed," said the father, 
" fulfilled a duty that was incumbent on thee. He who could 
act otherwise, would be unworthy to live ; for honesty is an 
indispensable moral duty. Thine was an act of justice, — not 
of goodness." 

On this the second advanced. " In the course of my trav- 
els," said he, " I came to the border of a lake, in which a 
child was on the point of drowning. I plunged into the wa- 
ter, and saved its life, in the presence of a number of the 
neighboring villagers, all of whom can attest the truth of my 
assertion." " It was well done," interrupted the father ; 
" but thou hast only obeyed the dictates of humanity. A man 
may be humane, without being really good." 

The youngest of the three now came forward. " I hap- 
pened," said he, " to meet my mortal enemy. Bewildered 
by the darkness of the night, he had lost his way ; and being 
overcome with fatigue, he sat down to rest on the brink of a 
precipice. Here, unconscious of his danger, he had fallen 
fast asleep ; and he was lying in such a position, that the 
least involuntary motion would have plunged him headlong 
into the frightful abyss. I gently awoke him, removed him 
cautiously from his perilous situation, and led him safely 
home." 

"Ah! my son," exclaimed the good old man, while he 
pressed him with transport to his heart, " to thee belongs the 
diamond, and thou hast well deserved it. He who thus re- 
pays injury with kindness, performs, indeed, an act of good- 
ness. The principle that could promp to such a deed, far 
excels both justice and humanity." 



LESSON XIX. 
REMEMBRANCE OF GOD.— Wood. 

Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth. Re- 
member that every thing which thou seest, above, beneath, 
around thee — the sun, the moon, and stars, the lofty moun- 
tains, the wide abyss of the ocean, are all the workmanship 
of his Almighty, though invisible hand. At his command, 
day and night — the beauties of spring — the glories of sum- 






LESSONS FOR READING. 43 



mer — the rich profusion of harvest — and the dread desolation 
of winter, succeed each other in regular progression. In him 
all the countless tribes of living creatures, that every where 
people this vast universe, live, and move, and have their be- 
ing. When he sendeth forth his Spirit, they are created ; 
when he openeth his hand, they are filled with good ; when 
he hideth his face, they are troubled ; when he taketh away 
their breath, they die, and return to their dust. But, above 
all, remember him as thy Creator — as the heavenly Father, 
who called thee into being, and to whom thou art indebted for 
every blessing which thou hast been permitted to enjoy. 
Thy health, thy strength, thy reason ; the air thou breathest: 
the light which cheers, the food which nourishes, the raiment 
which clothes, the dwelling which shelters thee ; thy mother's 
fostering care ; thy father's sustaining arm ; the kindness of 
thy friends ; — these, and all the other blessings of thy condi- 
tion, flow from the liberal hand of him, who alone is the Giver 
of all good. Remember that this kind Parent and bountiful 
Benefactor is also the continual spectator of thy conduct, and 
of the manner in which thou improvest the benefits he hath 
so liberally bestowed upon thee ; that each act thou dost, 
each word thou utterest, each thought thou conceivest within 
thy bosom, is known to him ; and that for each he shall one 
day require of thee an account. Let, then, his presence be 
ever impressed upon thy mind. Let thy devotions ascend to 
him, with every morning's dawn, and every evening's close ; 
accustom thyself to behold him in all his works ; hallow his 
holy name and word ; and, above all, in every moment of thy 
life, let it be thy first study to do his will. Sweet will be each 
prayer that rises from thy youthful bosom ; sweet each ac- 
cent of gratitude and praise. Ever bear in mind that solemn 
admonition of tried experience and paternal love, " Thou, 
Solomon, my son, know thou the God of thy father, and serve 
him with a perfect heart, and with a willing mind : if thou 
seek him, he will be found of thee ; but if thou forsake him, 
he will cast thee off forever." 



" Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and 
with all thy soul, and with all thy mind." 



44 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

LESSON XX. 

INFERENCE-MAKING.— Aikin. 

Making an inference, is a way of finding out something 
which we do not know, from some other thing which we do 
know. This is a very curious and useful art, and it will be 
therefore worth while to give you a few examples, that you 
may understand clearly what it is. 

A dog, it is said, can make an inference ; for when he has 
lost sight of his master, and follows him by the scent; if he 
comes to a place where three roads part, he will smell at the 
first, and if the scent is not there, he will smell at the second, 
but if the scent is not there neither, he will run along the first 
road without smelling ; thinking thus with himself: My mas- 
ter is not gone this way, nor yet that way, therefore he must 
be gone the third way, since there is no other. 

I have heard of a more curious instance of a dog who had 
cunning enough to draw his master into a false inference. 
This dog, who was tied up ia a yard at night, had found out 
that his collar was so loose that he could slip his neck in and 
out as he pleased ; and he took advantage of this to go out in 
the dark and kill sheep. When he came back, after commit- 
ting this offense, he always put his neck into the collar again, 
that his master might say, " My dog is safe tied up here, as 
I left him, therefore it could not have been he who killed the 
sheep." At last, however, the rogue was closely watched, 
and his trick found out. 

Columbus, sailing along an undiscovered coast, came to 
the mouth of a river larger than he had ever seen, he infer- 
red that the land must be a part of some mighty continent, 
and not an island ; because all the springs which could rise, 
and all the rain which could fall in an island, could never, as 
he calculated, supply water enough to feed so prodigiously 
broad and deep a river. He was right : this was the first 
discovery of the great continent of America, and the river 
was the Orinoco. 

There are some inferences which any body can make who 
will think, and pay attention to the common things which pass 
before his eyes ; others it requires knowledge and book- 
learning of various kinds to be able to make. 

When king Henry the Sixth of England, was a boy, and 



LESSONS FOR READING. 45 

his uncle, the duke of Gloucester, governed the country for 
him, it is related, that a man was brought before the duke 
who said that he was born blind, and had just received his 
sight by a miracle. "Aye!" said the duke, "were you 
born quite blind ?" "Quite blind, my lord." "And you 
see very clearly now ?" " O yes !" " Well ; what color is 
that gown?" " Black as a crow, my lord." "Right. And 
what color is this cloak?" " Red, my lord, red as blood." 
"I will have you whipped," said the duke, " for a rogue and 
a cheat ; if you had been born blind, and had but just now 
gained your eye-sight, you would be able to distinguish the 
colors indeed, but how should you have known the names of 
them?" This was an inference which any person might 
make who had his wits about him ; but not so the other 
which I am going to mention. 

Aristippus, a Grecian philosopher, which means a lover of 
wisdom, in passing over from Corinth to Asia, was shipwreck- 
ed on the isle of Rhodes. Observing, as they landed, some 
mathematical figures, such as squares, circles and triangles, 
drawn upon the sands, he said to his companions, " Take 
courage ! I see the footsteps of men !" inferring, not only 
that the island must be inhabited by human creatures, but 
that they could not be savages, since mathematics was known 
among them. The same Aristippus, having no doubt observ- 
ed how many inferences his own knowledge had enabled him 
to make, more than others, said that it was better to be poor 
than ignorant ; for the poor man wanted only money, but the 
ignorant man wanted what distinguishes men from brutes. 

Thus you perceive, that the more knowledge people have, 
and the more they work with their heads in thinking, the 
greater number of useful and interesting inferences they can 
make ; and this ought to be an encouragement to you to take 
pains to learn and consider things. 



LESSON XXI. 

THE GOLDFINCH.— Anonymous. 

This is one of the most elegant of English birds ; graceful 
in form, and arrayed in much more brilliant colors than the 
birds of that climate usually exhibit. It has also a sweet and 



46 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

cheerful song, which is heard from the earliest days of spring ; 
but it is in the month of M^y that it gives out its sweetest and 
fullest strains : perched on a tree it will pour forth its notes 
from early morning till set of sun, and make the orchard re- 
sound with its music. It continues to sing till the month of 
August, except during the period at which it is rearing its 
young ; then all its time and attention are devoted to parental 
duties. The male bird, though very attentive to his pretty 
mate, does not assist her in building the nest ; but he is con- 
stantly watching over her, either close by her side, or perch- 
ed on the nearest tree ; and this he does, both when she is 
seeking her food, and while engaged in preparing the abode 
for her future progeny. The nest is small and elegant ; its 
outside consists of fine moss curiously interwoven with other 
soft materials ; and the inside is lined with grass, horse-hair, 
wool, feathers, and down. Here the hen bird deposits five or 
six white eggs, spotted with brown toward the thick end. 
While she is hatching, her companion never leaves her ex- 
cept to procure food ; but sits on a neighboring tree and 
cheers her with his song. If disturbed, he flies away ; but it 
is only as a feint to prevent the nest from being discovered, 
and he soon returns. On her part, she devotes herself with 
the utmost patience and constancy to her maternal cares. 
As the time approaches when the young ones will make their 
appearance, she is evidently increasingly interested in their 
preservation, and will brave every thing to defend them from 
injury : the stormiest gales of wind, the drenching rain, or 
the pelting hail-storm, do not drive her from her nest ; there 
she remains, and her faithful mate continues in attendance 
on her. At last the little birds pierce the shell, and faint cries 
proclaim their wants to their parents ; then there is full em- 
ployment to procure food sufficient to supply five or six cra- 
ving little creatures. 

The goldfinch is easily tamed, and with no great trouble 
may be taught to perform many curious tricks with surpris- 
ing accuracy. It will draw up cups of water to its cage ; it 
will stand upon its head ; it will imitate a soldier and mount 
guard as a sentinel ; it will light a match and fire a small 
cannon ; it will imitate death and suffer itself to be taken up 
by its claws without the least sign of life ; fire-works may 
be exploded all around it, without frightening it. Many oth- 
er surprising things are told of it. Mr. Albin mentions a lady 
who had one which was even able to speak several words 
with great distinctness. This beautiful bird, has been known 



LESSONS FOR READING. 47 

to live sometimes to the age of twenty years. It is said, 
withal, to be extremely fond of the society of its own species 
— even the resemblance of another goldfinch is sufficient to 
console it in captivity. If a glass is placed near the cage, it 
is evidently pleased to look at its own image reflected in it, 
and is often seen to take its hemp-seed, grain by grain, and 
go and eat before the mirror, thinking, no doubt, that it is 
feeding in company. Poor little bird ! how much more de- 
lightful to see it flying gaily among its feathered mates of the 
field and the orchard, than thus cheated with the semblance 
of society. 

The song of the goldfinch has been fancifully supposed to 
resemble the words, "Take me with you if 'you please," chant- 
ed in recitative, with a strong emphasis on the first and fifth 
words in the sentence. 

Take me with you if you. please, 

I 'm a merry little bird ; 
I love the orchard's sheltering trees, 
And there my cheerful note is heard. 
Softly blows the summer breeze ; 
Take me with you if yoxi please. 

I love the woods and meadows too, 

Where other small birds gaily sing ; 
I sip with them the morning dew, 

And with them prune my glossy wing ; 
Softly blows the summer breeze, 
Take me with you if you please. 



LESSON XXII. 

WINTER.— Barbauld. 

It is now Winter, dead Winter. Desolation and silence 
reign in the fields, no singing of birds is heard, no humming 
of insects. The streams murmur no longer ; they are lock- 
ed up in frost. 

The trees lift their naked boughs like withered arms into 
the bleak sky* the green sap no longer rises in their veins ; 



48 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

the flowers and the sweet-smelling shrubs are decayed to 
their roots. 

The sun himself looks cold and cheerless ; he gives light 
only enough to show the universal desolation. 

Nature, child of God, mourns for her children. A little 
while ago, and she rejoiced in her offspring ; the rose shed 
its perfume upon the gales ; the vine gave its fruit ; her chil- 
dren were springing and blooming around her, on every lawn, 
and every green bank. 

O Nature, beautiful Nature, beloved child of God, why 
dost thou sit mourning and desolate ? Has thy father for- 
saken thee — has he left thee to perish ? Art thou no longer 
the object of his care ? 

He has not forsaken thee, O Nature ; thou art his beloved 
child, the eternal image of his perfections ; his own beauty 
is spread over thee, the light of his countenance is shed upon 
thee. 

Thy children shall live again — they shall spring up and 
bloom around thee ; the rose shall again breathe its sweet- 
ness on the soft air, and from the bosom of the ground, ver- 
dure shall spring forth. 

And dost thou not mourn, O nature, for thy human births ; 
for thy sons and thy daughters that sleep under the sod ; and 
shall they not also revive ? Shall the rose and the myrtle 
bloom anew, and shall man perish ? Shall goodness sleep 
in the ground, and the light of wisdom be quenched in the 
dust, and shall tears be shed over them in vain ? 

They also shall live ; their winter shall pass away ; they 
shall bloom again. The tears of thy children shall be dried 
up when the eternal year proceeds. O come that eternal 
year! 



LESSON XXIII. 

THE CORAL ISLAND.— Aiktn. 

A tall ship from Europe, crossing the Indian Ocean to 
China or New Holland, will sometimes strike suddenly upon 
a sunken rock, that is, a rock which does not rise to sight 
above the water, in a place where, a few years before, no 
rock was to be found. What are these new rocks do you, 



LESSONS FOR READING. 49 

suppose, or how are they produced ? Wonderful to tell ! 
they are the work of insects, formed by them out of matter 
collected in their own bodies, in the same manner as the spi- 
der forms its web, or the bee its comb, or the snail its shell. 
But the coral insects are more extraordinary creatures than 
these. They are of a great variety of shapes and sizes ; 
the commonest is in the form of a star, with arms, or feelers, 
from four to six inches long, which it moves nimbly around 
in search of food. Others are sluggish creatures, of the size 
and shape of a finger, and of a dark color. Some are as fine 
as a thread, and several feet long, sometimes blue and some- 
times yellow ; others look like snails, others like very little 
lobsters. When they have built up any part of their sea- 
castle so high that it rises above the water at low tide, it ap- 
pears, when dry, to be a firm and solid rock, very hard and 
rough ; but as soon as ever the tide rises again, and the 
waves begin to wash over it, the insects are seen thrusting 
out their bodies from thousands of little holes which were be- 
fore invisible, and in a short time the whole rock appears to 
be alive with their countless multitudes. And so the rock 
goes on, rising taller and taller in a shape like a cauliflower, 
till the water cannot reach its top, even at high tide. Then 
they can build it up no further, for they must be within reach 
of the water to get their food ; and when the insects die, it 
becomes a bare, dead rock, with neither plant, nor any living 
thing upon it. 

But presently the sea, in some great tempest, will throw 
over it some sea-weeds, and sand, and bones, and dead fishes, 
and perhaps the wreck of some lost ship, which its waters 
have overwhelmed ; and some fruits, and berries, and seeds 
will be mixed in the heap. All these things decaying togeth- 
er, will make a thin covering of mould, in which some of the 
seeds will spring up. Then a cocoa-nut will float to it from 
some neighboring shore, and it will take root, and thrive, and 
multiply; for this plant loves to grow in reach of salt water. 
When the cocoa-palms begin to wave their heads invitingly, 
birds will stretch their wings thither : the parrot and the 
dove will perch there, and within their bodies they will con- 
vey the seeds of other plants on which they feed ; and when 
these spring up, doves and parrots will build their nests, and 
make it their dwelling. Sea-birds will come there too, and 
lay their eggs ; and insects will be wafted thither by tem- 
pestuous winds, and insect-eating birds will follow them ; and 
thus it will become a little green islet, all alive and gay with 
5 



50 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

beautiful winged creatures ; but no beast can set bis foot upon 
it, and even man, should he happen to discover it, will not 
take possession, for one thing it wants — a fountain of fresh 
water. 

A little rain will lodge in the hollows of the rock, enough 
for the birds, but men and cattle must have a running spring. 



LESSON XXIV. 

INDIAN GRATITUDE— Dwight. 

Not many years after the county of Litchfield began to be 
settled by the English, a strange Indian came one day into 
an Inn, in the town of Litchfield, in the dusk of the evening, 
and requested the hostess to furnish him with some drink and 
a supper. At the same time, he observed, that he could pay 
for neither, as he had had no success in hunting ; but prom- 
ised payment as soon as he should meet with better fortune. 
The hostess refused him both the drink and the supper ; called 
him a lazy, drunken, good-for-nothing fellow ; and told him 
that she did not work so hard herself, to throw away her earn- 
ings upon such creatures as he was. A man who sat by, and 
observed that the Indian, then turning about to leave so in- 
hospitable a place, showed by his countenance, that he was 
suffering very severely from want and weariness, directed 
the hostess to supply him with what he wished, and engaged 
to pay the bill himself. She did so. 

When the Indian had finished his supper, he turned to his 
benefactor, thanked him, and assured him that he should re- 
member his kindness, and whenever he was able would faith- 
fully recompense it. 

Some years after, the man who had befriended him, had oc- 
casion to go some distance into the wilderness between Litch- 
field, then a frontier settlement, and Albany, when he was 
taken prisoner by an Indian scout, and carried to Canada. 
When he arrived at the principal settlement of the tribe, on 
the southern border of the St. Lawrence, it was proposed by 
some of the captors that he should be put to death. During 
the consultation, an old Indian woman demanded that he 
should be given up to her, that she might adopt him in the 
place of a son, whom she had lost in the war. He was ac- 



LESSONS FOR READING. 51 

cordingly given to her, and lived through the succeeding win- 
ter in her family, experiencing the customary effects of sav- 
age hospitality. 

The following summer, as he was at work in the forest 
alone, an unknown Indian came up to him, and asked him 
to meet him at a place which he pointed out, upon a given 
day. The prisoner agreed to the proposal, but not without 
some apprehensions that mischief was intended him. During 
the interval, these apprehensions increased to such a degree, 
as to dissuade him effectually from fulfilling his engagement. 
Soon after, the same Indian found him at his work again, and 
very gravely reproved him for not performing his promise. 
The man apologized awkwardly enough, but in the best man- 
ner in his power. The Indian told him that he should be 
satisfied, if he would meet him at the same place on a future 
day, which he named. The man promised to meet him, and 
fulfilled his promise. 

When he arrived at the spot, he found the Indian provided 
with two muskets, ammunition for them, and two knapsacks. 
The Indian ordered him to take one of each and follow him. 
The direction of their march was to the south. The man fol- 
lowed, without the least knowledge of what he was to do; or 
whither he was going ; but concluded, that, if the Indian in- 
tended him harm, he would have despatched him at the be- 
ginning ; and that, at the worst, he was as safe where he was, 
as he could be any where else in the power of his Indian cap- 
tors. Within a short time, therefore, his fears subsided ; al- 
though the Indian preserved a profound and mysterious si- 
lence concerning the object of the expedition. In the day 
time, they shot such game as came in their way, and at night 
kindled a fire, by which they slept. After a tedious journey 
of many days, they came, one morning, to the top of an emi- 
nence, presenting a prospect of a cultivated country, in which 
were a number of houses. The Indian asked his companion, 
whether he knew the ground. He replied eagerly, that it 
was Litchfield. His guide, then, after reminding him that 
he had, so many years before, relieved a famishing Indian at 
an Inn, in that town, subjoined, "I that Indian; now I pay 
you ; go home." Having said this, he bade him adieu, and 
the man joyfully returned to his own home. 



52 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

LESSON XXV. 

INDUSTRY.— Bible. 

Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might: 
for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, 
in the grave, whither thou goest. Seest thou a man diligent 
in his business ? — he shall stand before kings ; he shall not 
stand before mean men. 

A slothful man hideth his hand in his bosom, and w r ill not so 
much as bring it to his mouth again. He coveteth greedily 
all the day long. The soul of the sluggard desireth, and hath 
nothing. An idle soul shall suffer hunger. 

Slothfulness casteth into a deep sleep. Love not sleep, lest 
thou come to poverty. Drowsiness shall clothe a man with 
rags. He that is slothful in his work is brother to him that 
is a great waster. By much slothfulness the building decay- 
eth : and through idleness of the hands the house droppeth 
through. 

Be thou diligent to know the state of thy flocks, and look 
well to thy herds. For riches are not forever ; — and doth the 
crown endure to every generation ? Wealth gotten by van- 
ity, shall be diminished ; but he that gathereth by labor shall 
increase. 

If riches increase, set not your heart upon them. Wilt 
thou set thine eyes upon that which is not ? — for riches cer- 
tainly make themselves wings ; they fly away, as an eagle 
toward heaven. 

He that trusteth in his riches shall fall. There is that 
maketh himself rich, yet hath nothing : there is that maketh 
himself poor, yet hath great riches. The blessing of the 
Lord, — it maketh rich ; and he addeth no sorrow with it. 
The labor of the righteous tendeth to life ; the fruit of the 
wicked to sin. 

Labor not to be rich. He that hasteth to be rich hath an 
evil eye, and considereth not that poverty shall come upon 
him. There is that withholdeth more than is meet ; but it 
tendeth to poverty. He that oppresseth the poor to increase 
his riches, and he that giveth to the rich, shall surely come to 
want. Envy thou not the oppressor, and choose none of his 
ways. Whoso is partner with a thief, despiseth his own 
soul. 

Better is the poor that walketh in his uprightness, than he 



LESSONS FOR READING. 53 

that is perverse in his ways, though be be rich. Better is a 
little, with the fear of the Lord, than great treasure, and trou- 
ble therewith. The sleep of a laboring man is sweet ; but 
the abundance of the rich will not suffer him to sleep. 

Remove far from me vanity and lies ; give me neither pov- 
erty nor riches : feed me with food convenient for me ; lest I 
be full, and deny thee, and say, " Who is the Lord?" — or 
lest I be poor, and steal, and take the name of my God in 
vain. 



LESSON XXVI. 

THE ANT.— Cobbin. 

" Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider her ways and be wise." Prov. 
vi. chapter and 6th verse. 

There are many curious and industrious insects, such as 
the bee and the spider ; but Solomon, the wise man, here calls 
our attention to the ant. 

There are various sorts of ants, but all of them are exam- 
ples of industry ; they are masons, carpenters, miners, and 
carvers ; and their work is skillful and curious. The earthen 
hillock of the mason-ant, contains within it, lodges, vaults, 
and galleries. Some hillocks have twenty stories above the 
ground, and as many below ; these are for change of air ; for 
when it is too hot above, from the burning rays of the sun, 
they all go below ; and when it is too cold below, for want of 
the sun, they all go above. The carpenter-ants chisel out 
their stories, chambers, galleries, and colonnades, in the bo- 
dies or roots of growing trees. Another species builds its 
house upon the branches of trees, and glues the points of 
leaves together so as to form a purse : these nests differ in 
size, from a fist to a human head, and even a hogshead ! But 
the white ants of the tropical climates, which are very hot, 
are more extraordinary still. Their houses are five hundred 
times higher than themselves. They are frequently twelve 
feet high, and some are even twenty feet high, and large 
enough to contain twelve men ! Were our houses built ac- 
cording to the same proportions, they would be twelve or fif- 
teen times higher than the London Monument, and four or 
five times higher than the Pyramids of Egypt, with a suita- 
5* 



54 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

ble base ! Some of these ants, of a smaller kind, build their 
houses like a pillar, three feet high, whose shape resembles 
a mushroom, having an overhanging roof: in all, there are 
a number of apartments, galleries, and magazines. This 
ant will give some faint idea of the wonderful industry of 
these little insects, thousands of which may, at one tread, be 
crushed under our feet. 

" Go/' then "to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider her ways, 
and be wise." 

He is a sluggard that loves his ease, lives in idleness, 
minds no business, sticks to nothing, brings nothing to pass, 
and in a particular manner, is careless in the business of re- 
ligion. Let such go to school to the ant, and the little busy 
insect will teach them industry. In particular, let them learn 
wisdom from the industry of the ant, in gathering " her meat 
in the summer." Childhood and youth are the summer time 
of life ; and if we then do not lay up against old age, we 
shall be very poor, unless our fathers have laid up before us, 
and made us rich. We must also lay up for the mind as well 
as for the body ; and if we have no treasure there to supply 
our wants, we shall be poor miserable old creatures, when 
pains come upon us, and we can enjoy no society, and are 
unable both to talk and to read. And we must lay up for the 
soul ; for if we have no spiritual store, the poor soul will 
find itself starving just as it is going into eternity. Be wise 
then by times : " Seek the Lord while he is to be found ; call 
upon him while he is near !" " Lay up for yourselves treas- 
ures in heaven." 

" The little ants for one poor grain, 

Labor, and tug, and strive ; 
Yet we who have a heaven to obtain, 

How negligent we live." 



LESSON XXVII. 

LOKMAN.— Aikin. 

Lokman, surnamed the Wise, lived in very early times, 
probably in the days of king David and king Solomon, and 
his name is still famous in the East as the inventor of many 
fables and parables ; and various stories are told of his wis- 



LESSONS FOR READING. 55 

dom. It was said that he was a native of Ethiopia, and 
either a tailor, a carpenter, or a shepherd, and that after- 
wards he was a slave in various countries, and was at last 
sold among the Israelites. 

One day, as he was seated in the midst of a company who 
were all listening to him with great respect and attention, a 
Jew of high rank, looking earnestly at him, asked him whether 
he was not the same man whom he had seen keeping the 
sheep of one of his neighbors. Lokman said he was. " And 
how," said the other, " did you, a poor slave, come to be so 
famous as a wise man V " By exactly observing these 
three rules," replied Lokman \ li always speak the truth 
without disguise, strictly keep your promises, and do not 
meddle with what does not concern you." Another time he 
said that he had learned his wisdom from the blind, who will 
believe nothing but what they hold in their hands ; meaning 
that he always examined things, and took great pains to find 
out the truth. 

Being once sent with some other slaves to fetch fruit, his 
companions ate a great deal of it, and then said it was he 
who had eaten it ; on which he drank warm water to make 
himself sick, and thus proved that he had no fruit in his 
stomach ; and the other slaves, being obliged to do the same, 
were found out. 

Another story of him is, that his master having given him 
a kind of melon called the coloquintida, which is one of the 
bitterest things in the world, Lokman immediately ate it all 
up without making faces or showing the least dislike. His 
master, quite surprised, said, " How w T as it possible for you 
to swallow so nauseous a fruit ?" Lokman replied, " I have 
received so many sweets from you, that it is not wonderful 
that I should have swallowed the only bitter fruit you ever 
gave me." His master was so much struck by this gener- 
ous and grateful answer, that he immediately rewarded him 
by giving him his liberty. 

At this day, c to teach Lokman,' is a common saying in 
the East to express a thing impossible : it is said too that he 
w T as as good as he was wise ; and, indeed, it is the chief part 
of wisdom to be good. He was particularly remarkable for 
his love to God and his reverence of his holy name. He is 
reported to have lived to a good old age ; and many centuries 
after, a tomb in the little town of Ramlah, not far from Jeru- 
salem, w r as pointed as Lokman's. 



53 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

LESSON XXVIII. 
THE HUNDRED AND FOURTH PSALM.— Bible. 

Bless the Lord, O my soul ! O Lord my God ! thou art 
very great ; thou art clothed with honor and majesty : who 
coverest thyself with light as with a garment ; who stretchi- 
est out the heavens like a curtain ; who layeth the beams of 
his chambers in the waters ; who maketh the clouds his cha- 
riot, who walketh upon the wings of the wind ; who laid the 
foundations of the earth, that it should not be removed for 
ever. Thou coverest it with the deep, as with a garment : 
the waters stood above the mountains. At thy rebuke they 
fled ; at the voice of thy thunder they hasted away. They 
go up by the mountains ; they go down by the valleys, unto 
the place which thou hast founded for them. Thou hast set 
a bound that they may not pass over ; that they turn not 
again to cover the earth. 

He sendeth the springs unto the valleys, which run among 
the hills. They give drink to every beast of the field : the 
wild asses quench their thirst. By them shall the fowls of 
the heaven have their habitation, which sing among the 
branches. He watereth the hills from his chambers : the 
earth is satisfied with the fruit of thy works. He causeth 
the grass to grow for the cattle, and herb for the service of 
man, that he may bring forth food out of the earth. 

He appointed the moon for seasons ; the sun knoweth his 
going down. Thou makest darkness, and it is night ; where- 
in all the beasts of the forest do creep forth. The young li- 
ons roar after their prey, and seek their meat from God. The 
sun ariseth — they gather themselves together, and lay them 
down in their dens. Man goeth forth unto his work, and to 
his labor, until the evening. 

O Lord, how manifold are thy works ! in wisdom hast thou 
made them all : the earth is full of thy riches. So is this 
great and wide sea, wherein are things creeping innumerable, 
both small and great beasts. There go the ships : there is 
that leviathan, whom thou hast made to play therein. 

These wait all upon thee, that thou mayest give them their 
meat in due season. That thou givest them, they gather ; 
thou openest thy hand — they are filled with good. Thou hi- 
dest thy face — they are troubled ; thou takest away their 
breath — they die, and return to their dust. Thou sendest 



LESSONS FOR READING. 57 

forth thy spirit — they are created; and thou renewest the 
face of the earth. 

The glory of the Lord shall endure forever : the Lord shall 
rejoice in his works. I will sing unto the Lord as long as 
I live ; 1 will sing praise to my God, while I have my being. 
Praise ye the Lord ! 



LESSON XXIX. 
THE BUTTERFLY'S BALL.— Roscoe. 

Come, take up your hats, and away let us haste 
To the butterfly's ball and the grasshopper's feast ; 
The trumpeter, gadfly, has summoned the crew, 
And the revels are now only waiting for you. 

On the smooth shaven grass by the side of the wood, 
Beneath a broad oak that for ages has stood, 
See the children of earth and the tenants of air, 
For an evening's amusement together repair. 

And there came the beetle so blind and so black, 
Who carried the emmet his friend on his back ; 
And there was the gnat, and the dragonfly too, 
With all their relations, green, orange, and blue. 

And there came the moth in his plumage of down, 
And the hornet with jacket of yellow and brown, 
Who with him the wasp his companion did bring ; 
But they promised that evening to lay by their sting. 

And the sly little dormouse crept out of his hole, 
And led to the feast his blind brother' the mole ; 
And the snail, with his horns peeping out from his shell, 
Came from a great distance, — the length of an ell. 

A mushroom their table, and on it was laid 
A water-dock leaf, which a table-cloth made ; 
The viands were various, to each of their taste, 
And the bee brought his honey to crown the repast. 



58 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

There close on his haunches, so solemn and wise, 
The frog from a corner looked up to the skies ; 
And the squirrel, well-pleased such diversion to see, 
Sat cracking his nuts overhead in the tree. 

Then out came the spider, with fingers so fine, 
To show his dexterity on the tight line ; 
From one branch to another his cobwebs he slung, 
Then as quick as an arrow he darted along. 

But just in the middle, oh ! shocking to tell ! 

From his rope in an instant poor Harlequin fell ; 

Yet he touched not the ground, but with talons outspread, 

Hung suspended in air at the end of a thread. 

Then a grasshopper came with a jerk and a spring, 
Very long was his leg, though but short was his wing : 
He took but three leaps, and was soon out of sight, 
Then chirped his own praises the rest of the night. 

With step so majestic the snail did advance, 

And promised the gazers a minute to dance ; 

But they all laughed so loud that he pulled in his hea< 

And went to his own little chamber to bed. 

Then as evening gave way to the shadows of night, 
Their watchman, the glowworm, came out with his light ; 
Then home let us hasten while yet we can see, 
For no watchman is waiting for you and for me. 



LESSON XXX. 
HOPE AND MEMORY— Mrs. Sigourney. 

A babe lay in its cradle. A being with bright hair, and a 
clear eye, came and kissed it. Her name was Hope. Its 
nurse denied it a cake, for which it cried ; but Hope told it 
of one in store for it to-morrow. Its little sister gave it a 
flower, at which it clapped its hands joyfully, and Hope 
promised it fairer ones, which it should gather for itself. 

The babe grew to a boy. He was musing at the summer 



LESSONS FOR READING. 59 

twilight. Another being, with a sweet, serious face, came 
and sat by him. Her name was Memory. And she said, 
" Look behind thee, and tell me what thou seest." 

The boy answered, " I see a short path, bordered with flow- 
ers. Butterflies spread out gay wings there, and birds sing 
among the shrubs. It seems to be the path where my feet 
have walked, for at the beginning of it is my own cradle." 

" What art thou holding in thy hand ?" asked Memory. 
And he answered, " a book which my mother gave me." 
" Come hither," said Memory, with a gentle voice, " and I 
will teach thee how to get honey out of it that shall be sweet 
when thy hair is gray." 

The boy became a youth. Once, as he lay in his bed, 
Hope and Memory came to the pillow. Hope sang a merry 
song, like the lark when she rises from her nest to the skies. 
Afterward, she said, " Follow me, and thou shalt have musio 
in thy heart, as sweet as the lay I sung thee." 

But Memory said, " He shall be mine also. Hope, why 
need we contend ? For as long as he keepeth Virtue in his 
heart, we will be to him as sisters, all his life long." So he 
embraced Hope and Memory, and was beloved of them both. 

When he awoke, they blessed him, and he gave a hand to 
each. He became a man, and Hope girded him every morn- 
ing for his labor, and every night he supped at the table of 
Memory, with Knowledge for their guest. 

At length, age found the man, and turned his temples 
white. To his dim eye it seemed that the world was an al- 
tered place. But it was he himself who had changed, and 
the warm blood had grown cold in his veins. 

Memory looked on him with grave and tender eyes, like a 
loving and long-tried friend. She sat down by his elbow- 
chair, and he said to her, " Thou hast not kept faithfully some 
jewels that I entrusted to thee. I fear that they are lost." 

She answered mournfully and meekly, " It may be so. 
The lock of my casket is worn. Sometimes I am weary, and 
fall asleep. Then Time purloins my key. But the gems 
that thou gavest me when life was new, see ! I have lost none 
of them. They .are as brilliant as when they came into my 
hands." 

Memory looked pitifully on him, as she ceased to speak, 
wishing to be forgiven. But Hope began to unfold a radiant 
wing which she had long worn concealed beneath her robe, 
and daily tried its strength in a heavenward flight. 

The old man lay down to die. And as the soul went forth 



CO THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

from the body, the angels took it. Memory ascended by its 
side, and went through the open gate of heaven. But Hope 
paused at the threshold. There she expired, like a rose faintly 
giving forth its last odors. 

A glorious form bent over her. Her name was Immortal 
Happiness. Hope commended to her the soul, which she had 
followed through the world. " Religion," she said, " planted 
in it such seeds as bear the fruit of heaven. It is thine for- 
ever." 

Her dying words were like the music of some breaking 
harp, mournful but sweet. And I heard the voices of angels 
saying, " Hope that is born of the earth must die, but Memory 
is eternal as the books from which men are judged." 



LESSON XXXI. 

SELF-DENIAL.— Taylor. 






-T-4 



The clock had just struck nine, and Harry recollected that 
his mother had desired them not to set up a minute after the 
clock struck. He reminded his elder brother of this order. 
" Never mind," said Frank, " here is a famous fire, and I 
shall stay and enjoy it." " Yes," said Harry, " here's a fa- 
mous fire, and I should like to stay and enjoy it ; but that 
would not be self-denial, would it, Frank ?" " Nonsense," 
said Frank, " I shall not stir yet, I promise you." u Then 
good night to you," said Harry. Six o'clock was the time at 
which the brothers were expected to rise. When it struck 
six the next morning, Harry started up ; but the air felt so 
frosty that he had a strong inclination to lie down again. 
" But no," thought he, " here is a fine opportunity for self-de- 
nial ;" and up he jumped without farther hesitation. " Frank, 
Frank," said he to his sleeping brother, " past six o'clock, and 
a fine star-light morning." " Let me alone," cried Frank, in 
a cross, drowsy voice. " Very well, then, a pleasant nap to 
you," said Harry, and down he ran as gay as the lark. After 
finishing his Latin exercise, he had time to take a pleasant 
walk before breakfast ; so that he came in fresh and rosy, 
with a good appetite, and, what was still better, in a good 
humor. 

But poor Frank, who had just tumbled out of bed when the 



LESSONS FOR READING, 61 

bell rang for prayer, came down, looking pale, and cross, and 
1 cold, and discontented. Harry, who had some sly drollery of 
his own, was just beginning to rally him on his forlorn appear- 
ance, when he recollected his resolution. " Frank does not like 
to be laughed at, especially when he is cross," thought he, so 
he suppressed his joke ; and it requires some self-denial even 
to suppress a joke. 

During breakfast his father promised that if the weather 
continued fine, Harry should ride out with him before dinner 
on the gray pony. Harry was much delighted with this pro- 
posal ; and the thought of it occurred to him very often during 
the business of the morning. The sun shone cheerily in at the 
parlor windows, and seemed to promise fair for a fine day. 
About noon, however, it became rather cloudy, and Harry was 
somewhat startled to perceive a few large drops upon the 
flag-stones in the court. He equipped himself, nevertheless, 
in his great coat, at the time appointed, and stood playing with 
his whip in the hall, waiting to see the horses led out. His 
mother now passing by, said, " My dear boy, I am afraid 
there can be no riding this morning : do you see that the 
stones are quite wet ?" " Dear mother," said Harry, " you 
surely do not imagine that I am afraid of a few drops of rain ; 
besides, it will be no more than a shower at any rate." Just 
then his father came in, who looked first at the clouds, then at 
the barometer, and then at Harry, and shook his head. " You 
intend to go, papa, don't you ?" said Harry. " I must go, I 
have business to do ; but I believe, Harry, it will be better for 
you to stay at home this moring," said his father. " But, sir, u 
repeated Harry, " do you think it possible now, that this little 
sprinkling of rain should do me the least harm in the world, 
with my great coat and all ?" " Yes, Harry," said his father, 
" I do think that even this sprinkling of rain may do you harm, 
as you have not been quite well : I think, too, that it will be 
more than a sprinkling. But you shall decide on this occa- 
sion for yourself; I know you have some self-command. I 
shall only tell you, that your going this morning would make 
your mother uneasy, and that we both think it improper ; — 
now determine." Harry again looked at the clouds, at the 
stones, at his boots, and last of all at his kind mother ; and 
then he recollected himself. " This," thought he, "is the 
best opportunity for self-denial that I have had to-day !" and 
he immediately ran out to tell Roger that he need not saddle 
the gray pony. 

" I should like another, I think, mother," said Frank that 



62 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

day at dinner, just as he had despatched a large hemisphere 
of mince pie. " Any more for you, my dear Harry ?" said * 
his mother. " If you please ; — no, thank you, though," said 
Harry, withdrawing his plate, " for," thought he, " I have 
had enough, and more than enough, to satisfy my hunger ; 
and now is the time for self-denial. " Brother Harry," said 
his little sister after dinner, " when will you show me how to 
do that pretty puzzle you said you would show me a long 
time ago ?" " I am busy now, child," said Harry, " don't 
tease me now ; that's a good girl." She said no more, but 
looked disappointed, and still hung upon her brother's chair. 
" Come, then," said he, suddenly recollecting himself, " bring 
me your puzzle," and laying down his book, he very good- 
naturedly showed his little sister how to place it. 

That night, when the two boys were going to bed, Harry 
called to mind, with some complacency, the several instances 
in the course of the day in which he had exercised self-denial, 
and he was on the very point of communicating them to his 
brother Frank. " But no," thought he, " this is another op- 
portunity still for self-denial ; I will not say a word about it ; 
besides, to boast of it would spoil all . " So Harry lay down qui- 
etly, making the following sage reflections : — " This has been 
a pleasant day to me, although I have had one great disap- 
pointment, and done several things against my will. I find 
that self-denial is painful for a moment, but very agreeable 
in the end ; and, if I go on this plan every day, I shall stand 
a good chance of leading a happy life." 



LESSON XXXII. 

THE SHEPHERD-BOY AND HIS DOG SHAG.— Anonymous. 

One Saturday evening Halbert's mother was taken very 
ill ; the cottage they lived in was away among the mountains, 
far from any path. The snow fell in large, heavy flakes, 
and Malcolm — that was the shepherd's name — took down his 
long pole with the intention of setting out to the village to 
procure some medicine for his wife. " Father," said little 
Halbert, " I know the sheep-path through the dark glen bet- 
ter than you ; and, with Shag, who will walk before me, I 
am quite safe ; let me go for the doctor, and do you stay and 



LESSONS FOR READING. 63 

comfort my mother." Malcolm consented. Halbert had 
been accustomed to the mountains from his earliest infancy ; 
and Shag set out with his young master, wagging his tail, 
and making many jumps and grimaces. They went safely 
on — Halbert arrived at the village — saw the doctor — receiv- 
ed some medicine for his mother — and then commenced his 
return with a cheerful heart. 

Shag went on before to ascertain that all was right ; — sud- 
denly, however, he stopped, and began snuffing and smelling 
about. " Goon, Shag," said Halbert. Shag would not stir. 
" Shag, go on, sir," repeated the boy ; " we are nearly at the 
top of the glen ; look through the night, you can see the can- 
dle glimmer in our window." Shag appeared obstinate for 
the first time in his life ; and at last Halbert advanced alone, 
heedless of the warning growl of his companion. He had 
proceeded but a few steps when he fell over a precipice, 
which had been concealed by a snow-wreath. 

Malcolm repeatedly snuffed the little candle which he 
had affectionately placed so as to throw light over his boy's 
path — replenished the fire — and spoke to his wife that com- 
fort in which his own anxious heart could not participate. 

Often did he go to the door, but no footstep sounded on the 
crackling ice — no figure darkened the wide waste of snow. 
" Perhaps the doctor is not at home, and he is waiting for 
him," said his poor mother. She felt so uneasy at her child's 
absence, that she almost forgot her own pain. It was nearly 
midnight, when Malcolm heard the well-known bark of the 
faithful Shag. " My son ! my son !" cried both parents at 
the same moment. The cottage-door opened, and Shag en- 
tered without his master ! " My brave boy has perished in 
the snow !" exclaimed the mother ; at the same moment the 
father saw a small packet round the dog's neck, who was lying 
panting on the floor. " Our boy lives," said the shepherd; 
" here is the medicine tied with his handkerchief ; he has fallen 
into some of the pits ; but he is safe. Trust in God ! I will 
go out, and Shag will conduct me safely to the rescue of my 
• child." In an instant, Shag was again on his feet, and testfi- 
ed the most unbounded joy as they both issued from the cot- 
tage. You can imagine the misery and grief the poor mother 
suffered — alone in her mountain-dwelling — the snow and the 
wind beating round her solitary cot — the certainty of her 
son's danger, and the fear lest her husband also might per- 
ish. She felt that both their lives depended on the sagacity 
of a poor dog ; but she knew that God could guide the dumb 



64 THE YOUNG SPEAKER, 

creature's steps to the saving of both ; and she clasped her 
hands, and fervently prayed that God would not desert her in 
the most severe trial she had ever met. 

Shag went on straight and steadily for some yards, and 
then suddenly turned down a path which led to the bottom of 
the crag over which Halbert had fallen. The descent. was 
steep and dangerous, and Malcolm was frequently obliged to 
support himself by the frozen branches of the trees. Provi- 
dentially, however, it had ceased snowing, and the clouds 
were drifting fast from the moon. At last Malcolm stood at 
the lower and opposite edge of the pit into which his son had 
fallen ; — he hallooed — he strained his eyes, but could not see 
or hear anything. Shag was making his way down an al- 
most perpendicular height, and Malcolm resolved at all haz- 
ards to follow him. After getting to the bottom, Shag scram- 
bled to a projecting ledge of rock, which was nearly bedded 
in snow, and commenced whining and scratching in a violent 
manner. Malcolm followed, and after some search found 
what appeared to be the dead body of his son. He hastily 
tore off the jacket, which was soaked with blood and snow ; 
and, wrapping Halbert in his plaid, strapped him across his 
shoulders, and with much toil and difficulty re-ascended. 
Halbert was placed in his mother's bed ; and by using great 
exertion they aroused him from his dangerous sleep. He 
was much bruised, and his ankle dislocated ; but he had no 
other hurt : and when he recovered his senses, he fixed his 
eyes on his mother, and his first words were, " Thank God ! 
- — but did you get the medicine, mother V* When he fell, 
Shag had descended after him, and the affectionate son used 
what little strength he Jiad left to tie what he had received 
from the doctor round his neck, and directed him home with it. 

It is many years since this happened, and Shag is now old 
and gray ; but he still toddles about after his master, who is 
now one of the most handsome and trusty shepherds among 
the bonny Highlands of Scotland. 



LESSON XXXIII. 

THE BRIGHT FIRMAMENT.— Barbauld. 

The golden orb of the sun is sunk behind the hills ; the 
colors fade away from the Western sky ; and the shades of 
evening fall fast around mo, 



LESSONS FOR READING. 65 

Deeper and deeper they stretch over the plain ; I look at 
the grass, it is no longer green ; the flowers are no more tint- 
ed with various hues ; the houses, the trees, the cattle, are 
all lost in the distance. The dark curtain of night is let 
down over the works of God ; they are blotted out from the 
view, as if they were no longer there. 

Child of little observation ! canst thou see nothing because 
thou canst not see grass and flowers, trees and cattle ? Lift 
up thine eyes from the ground, shaded with darkness, to the 
heavens that are stretched over thy head ; see how the stars, 
one by one, appear and light up the vast concave. 

There is the moon, bending her bright horns, like a silver 
bow, and shedding her mild light, like liquid silver, over the 
blue firmament. 

There is Venus, the evening and the morning star ; and 
the Pleiades, and the Bear that never sets, and the Pole star 
that guides the mariner over the deep. 

Now the mantle of darkness is over the earth ; the last 
little gleam of twilight is faded away ; the lights are extin- 
guished in the cottage windows, but the firmament burns with 
innumerable fires ; every little star twinkles in its place. 
If you begin to count them they are more than you can num- 
ber ; they are like the sands of the sea-shore. 

The telescope shows you far more ; and there are thou- 
sands and ten thousands of stars which no telescope has ever 
reached. 

Now, Orion heaves his bright shoulder above the horizon, 
and Sirius, the dog-star, follows him — the brightest of the 
train. 

Look at the milky-way, it is a field of brightness ; its pale 
light is composed of myriads of burning suns. 

All these are God's families ; he gives the sun to shine 
with a ray of his own glory ; he marks the path of the plan- 
ets ; he guides their wanderings through the sky, and traces 
out their orbit with the finger of his power. 
^ If you were to travel as swift as an arrow from a bow, and 
to travel on further and further still, for millions of years, 
you would not be out of the creation of God. 

New suns in the depth of space would still be burning 
around you, and other planets fulfilling their appointed 
course. 

Lift up thine eyes, child of earth, for God has given thee a 
glimpse of heaven. 

The light of one sun is withdrawn that thou mayest see 
6* 



GO THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

ten thousand. Darkness is spread over the earth, that thou 
mayest behold, at a distance, the regions of eternal day. 

This earth has a variety of inhabitants; the sea, the air, 
the surface of the ground, swarm with creatures of different 
natures, sizes, and powers ; to know a very little of them is 
to be wise among the sons of men. 

What, then, thinkest thou, are the various forms, and na- 
tures, and senses, and occupations of the peopled universe ? 

Who can tell the birth and generations of so many worlds ? 
who can relate their histories ? who can describe their inhab- 
itants ? 

Canst thou measure infinity with a line ? canst thou grasp 
the circle of infinite space ? 

Yet these all depend upon God ; they hang upon him as a 
child upon the breast of its mother ; he tempereth the heat 
to the inhabitants of Mercury ; he provideth resources against 
the cold in the frozen orb of Saturn. Doubt not that he pro- 
videth for all beings that he has made. 

Look at the moon when it w r alketh in brightness ; gaze at 
the stars when they are marshaled in the firmament, and 
adore the Maker of so many worlds. 



The mountain hiding its snowy head in the clouds ; the 
river rolling its irresistible current, swelled with all the wa- 
ters of heaven; the boundless expanse of ocean ; the raging 
agitations of the tempest — these are grand and sublime objects 
which affect the most stupid and unfeeling hearts. But what 
are these, in comparison of Him "who counteth the nations 
as the small dust of the balance ; who taketh up the isles as 
a very little thing ; who stretcheth out the north over the 
empty space, and hangeth the earth upon nothing ?" 



Reputation, of all possessions, is the most valuable, next to 
a good conscience ; to which indeed it of right belongs, and 
from which it naturally springs. The root lies out of the 
reach of injury. Your innocence no one can take from you, 
without your own consent: but the fruit of a fair reputation, 
so beautiful and fragrant, and in all respects so precious, this 
alas ! hangs exposed to the assault of every passenger : the 
lowest, as he goes along, can fling a stone upwards, and laugh 
to see the prize fall, though he cannot gather it. 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER, 



PART THIRD. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING OR READING. 




There are four principal positions of the feet. The above Figure repre- 
sents a boy standing in one of them. The pupil will perceive that the right 
foot is advanced and supports nearly all the weight of the body, while the 
left foot touches the floor but lightly. He will notice, also, that the toes 
*are turned moderately outward, and that the left heel, — at a distance of 
about half the length of the foot, — falls directly behind the right heeL 
T his is the fast right position, 



68 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



LESSON I. 

OUR NATIVE LAND.— M . m. b. 

We come, a youthful, happy band, 

Rejoicing in our native land ; 
A rich inheritance we claim, 

Our fathers' deeds, our fathers' fame. 

In other lands, we read in story, 

Are kings, and thrones, but 'tis our glory 
That we are free ; — no tyrant's frown 

We fear — no man who wears a crown ! 

In freedom's cause we'll bravely dare 
To climb the steeps of fame, and share 

A nation's love — a priceless gem — 
Who wins it, wants no diadem ! 



LESSON II. 

WHY YIELD TO GRIEF.— Anonymous. 

'Twas when the seas with hideous roar 

A little bark assailed, 
And potent fear, with awful power, 

O'er each on board prevailed — 

Save one, the captain's darling child, 
Who fearless view'd the storm, 

And playful with composure smiled, 
At danger's threatening form, — 

« Why sporting thus ?" a seaman cried, 

" When sorrows overwhelm?" — 
"Why yield to grief," the boy replied — 
" My father 's at the helm?" 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 69 

LESSON III. 
ETERNITY.— Henry. 

Arithmeticians have figures to compute all the progres- 
sions of time. Astronomers have instruments to calculate the 
distances of the planets. But what numbers can state, what 
lines can guage, the lengths and breadths of eternity ? " It 
is higher than heaven ; what canst thou do ? deeper than 
hell ; what canst thou know ? the measure thereof is longer 
than the earth, broader than the sea." 

Mysterious, mighty existence ! A sum not to be lessened 
by the largest deductions ! an extent not to be contracted by 
all possible diminutions ! Never can it be said, after the most 
prodigious waste of ages, " So much of eternity is gone." 
When millions of centuries are elapsed, it is but just com- 
mencing ; and when millions more have run their ample 
round, it will be no nearer ending. Eternity, vast, bound- 
less, amazing eternity ! 



LESSON IV. 

THE SKATER'S SONG.— Anonymous. 

Away, away, with a curve and a dash, 
And a light and a bounding spring, 

For the racing steed and the lightning's flash, 
Only vie with the skater's fling. 

Then away o'er the plain of the glassy stream, 

Will I speed in my airy flight, 
And I'll laugh at the car with its hissing steam, 

And spurn at its boasted might. 

Now away do I skim o'er the slippery field 

Like a bird in the calm blue sky, 
And declare to the winds that I never will yield, 

As I proudly go dashing by. 



70 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

LESSON V. 

CONTENT— Anonymous. 

It is not youth can give content, 
Nor is it wealth's decree ; 

It is a gift from Heaven sent, 
Though not to thee or me. 

It is not in the Monarch's crown, 
Though he'd give millions for't : 

It dwells not in his Lordship's frown, 
Or waits on him to court. 

It is not in a coach and six, * 

It is not in a garter ; 
? Tis not in love or politics, 

But 'tis in Hodge the carter. 



LESSON VI. 
BRUTUS ON THE DEATH OF CESAR.— Shakspeare. 

Romans, countrymen, and friends ; hear me for my cause ; 
and be silent that you may hear. Believe me for mine hon- 
or, and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe. 
Censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses that 
you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly^ 
any dear friend of Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus's love to 
Caesar was no less than his. If then that friend demand, 
why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer : not that 
I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you 
rather Caesar were living and die all slaves, than that Caesar 
were dead, and live all freemen ? As Caesar loved me, I 
weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it ; as he was 
valiant, I honor him ; but as he was ambitious, I slew him ! 
There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for his 
valor, and death for his ambition I 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 



71 



This figure represents a 
boy in the second right 
position. The arrange- 
ment of the feet is in all 
respects similar to the first 
right described on page 67; 
the pupil will notice this 




difference, however, that 
the left foot now supports 
the weight of the body, 
while the right foot touch- 
es the floor but lightly, and 
the heel is turned a little 
more outward. 



LESSON VII . 
FAINT NOT.— Anonymous. 

Up and doing — be not faint 
Nor loiter by the way ; 

Waste no time in sad complaint 
If ye would gain the day. 

Persevere, and you shall win — 
So doth the world declare ; 

Triumph o'er the hosts of sin, 
And palms of victory bear. 



Onward — upward — be your aim, 
Unheeding curse or frown ; 

They who bear the Christian's name 
Must labor for the crown. 



72 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

LESSON VIII. 

A WORD IN KINDNESS.— Anonymous. 

A little word in kindness spoken, 

A motion or a tear, 
Has often healed the heart that's broken, 

And made a friend sincere. 

A word — a look — has crushed to earth 
Full many a budding flower, 

Which, if a smile had owned its birth, 
Had blessed life's darkest hour. 

Then deem it not an idle thing 

A pleasant word to speak ; 
The face you wear, the thoughts you bring, 

A heart may heal or break. 



% 



LESSON IX. 
DEPEND NOT ON EARTHLY BLISS.— Hervey. 

You have seen, no doubt, a set of pretty painted birds 
perching on your trees, or sporting in your meadows. You 
were pleased with the lovely visitants, that brought beauty on 
their wings and melody in their throats. But could you en* 
sure the continuance of this agreeable entertainment? No, 
truly. At the least disturbing noise, at the least terrifying 
appearance, they start from their seats ; they mount the skies, 
and are gone in an instant — are gone forever. 

Would you choose to have a happiness which bears date 
with their arrival, and expires at their departure ? If you 
could not be content with a portion, enjoyable only through 
such a fortuitous term, not of years, but of moments, O ! take 
up with nothing earthly ; set your affections on things above ; 
there alone is " no variableness or shadow of turning." 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING, 73 

LESSON X. 

THE ARAB STEED.— Anonymous. 

O give me but my Arab steed, a shield and falchion bright. 
And I will to the battle speed, to save him in the fight : 
His noble crest I'll proudly wear, and gird his scarf around ; 
But I must to the field repair, for hark ! the trumpets sound ! 
Hark ! hark ! hark ! the trumpets sound ! 

Oh ! with my Arab steed I'll go, to brave the embattled plain, 
Where warriors tried their valor show, and drain each noble 

vein : 
His brow, that oft the battle braves, with fadeless laurels 

crown'd, 
Shall guide me where his falchion waves, — but hark ! the 

trumpets sound ! 
Hark ! hark ! hark ! the trumpets sound ! 



LESSON XI. 

THE BATTLE CALL.— Percival. 

Loud rings the battle trumpet, 
Far resounding, far swelling ! 
Rouse, heroes, rouse to the conflict ! 
See, yonder the dark foe 
Sweeps, like a winter storm ! 

On speeds the fierce invader, 
Wild as ocean high heaving ! 
Strong nerve ye, boldly to meet him ! 
Back hurl him, as dashed wave 
Rolls from the rock-bound shore ! 

Earth far has shook beneath him, 
All invading, all subduing ! 
Yet fear not — country is sacred ! 
Who arms for his loved home, 
Fights with the sword of heaven ! 

7 



74 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

LESSON XII. 

yOU CANNOT CONQUER AMERICA.— Chatham. 

I know the valor of your troops ; I know the skill of your 
officers ; I know the force of this country ; but in such a 
cause, your success would be hazardous. America, if she 
fell, would fall like the strong man : she would embrace the 
pillars of the state, and pull down the constitution with her. 
Is this your boasted peace ? Not to sheathe the sword in the 
scabbard, but to sheathe it in the hearts of your countrymen ? 
The Americans have been wronged ; they have been driven 
to madness by injustice. Will you punish them for the 
madness you have occasioned ? No ; let" this country be the 
first to resume its prudence and temper. I will pledge my- 
self for the colonies, that, on their part, animosity and resent- 
ment will cease. Let affection be the only bond of coercion. 
Upon the whole I will beg leave to tell the House in a few 
words what is really my opinion. It is, that the Stamp Act 
be repealed— ABSOLUTELY— TOTALLY— and IMME- 
DIATELY. 



LESSON XIII. 

CARE OF THE DEITY.— Anonymous. 

The insect, that with puny wing, 
Just shoots along the summer ray : 

The floweret, which the breath of spring 
Wakes into life for half a day ; 

The smallest mote, the slenderest hair — 
All feel our common Father's care. 

E'en from the glories of his throne 
He bends to view this wandering ball ; 

Sees all, as if that all were one, 
Loves one, as if that one were all ; 

Rolls the swift planets in their spheres, 
And counts the sinner's lonely tears. 






LESSONS FOE SPEAKING. 



75 



The first left position is 
just the reverse of the first 
right. The pupil will see 
by the Figure, that the left 
foot is advanced and sup- 
ports the weight of the body, 




while the right foot touches 
the floor but lightly. In all 
other respects it is the same 
as the first right, described 
on the first page of Part 
Third. 



LESSON XIV. 

JOSEPH LANCASTER.—Mits. Fitzgerald. 

He has faded from earth, like a star from on high, 

In the evening of wearisome age, 
But the glory which lingered, when dimmed was his sight. 
Shall be told by the nations of earth with delight, 

And recorded on history's page. 

For he lived not in vain — clad in simple attire, 

Benevolence writ on his face, — 
He fixed his keen gaze, — like that bird of the sky, 
Who looks on the sunbeam with firm, steady eye, — 

Determined to better his race. 



' T was accomplished, and Lancaster's name shall survive, 

And be graven in letters of love 
On the hearts of the millions, his labors have blest, 
When long he has passed from those labors to rest, 

And reached his bright mansion above. 



76 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

LESSON XV. 

THE RAINBOW.— Hervey. 






Behold a low, of no hostile intentions ! a bow painted 
in variegated colors, on the disburdened cloud. How vast is 
the extent, how delicate the texture, of that showery arch t 
It eompasseth the heavens with a glorious circle, and teaches 
us to forget the horrors of the storm. Elegant its form, and 
rich its tinctures ; but more delightful its sacred significancy. 
While the violet and the rose blush in its beautiful aspect, 
the olive-branch smiles in its gracious import. It writes in 
radiant dyes, what the angel sung in harmonious strains ; 
" Peace on earth, and good- will toward men." It is the 
stamp of insurance, for the continuance of seed-time and 
harvest ; for the preservation and security of the visible 
world. It is the comfortable token of a better state, and a 
happier kingdom ; — a kingdom where sin shall cease, a%i 
misery be abolished ; where storms shall beat, and winter 
pierce no more ; but holiness, happiness and joy 3 like one un- 
bounded spring, for ever, ever bloom.. 



LESSON XVI. 

THE CREATOR'S WORKS. --Anonymous. 

There 's not a star whose twinkling light 

Illumes the distant earth, 
And cheers the solemn gloom of night, 

But mercy gave it birth. 

There *s not a cloud whose dews distill 

Upon the parching clod, 
And clothe with verdure, vale and hill, 

That is not sent by God. 

There 's not a place in earth's vast round, 

In ocean deep, or air, 
Where skill and wisdom are not found ; 

For God is every where. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 77 

Around, beneath, below, above, 

Wherever space extends, 
There heaven displays its boundless love, 

And power with mercy blends. 



LESSON XVII. 

MEET THE FOE— Percival. 

Ye sons of sires, who fought and bled 

For liberty and glory, 
Whose fame shall ever wider spread 

Till Time is bent and hoary — 
Awake to meet the invading foe ! 

Rouse at the call of danger ! 
Beat down again his standard low, 

And backward hurl the stranger ! 

They knew no fear, those sires of old — 

; Mid swords and bayonets clashing, 
Still high they bore their banner's fold, 

Its stars, like lightnings flashing. 
Be like those sires ! — With freeborn might, 

Renew the deeds of story ! 
Who lives, shall win a wreath of light — 

Who falls, shall sleep in glory ! 



LESSON XVIII. 
NATIONAL GREATNESS.— Harper. 

Mr. Speaker, — There cannot be the least doubt, but that, 
when France is at length convinced that we are firmly re- 
solved to call forth all our resources, and. to exert all our 
strength to resist her encroachments and aggressions, she will 
soon desist from them. She need not be told, sir, what these 
resources are ; she knows well their greatness and extent. 
She will not, therefore, drive us to extremity^ but desist as 
I soon as she finds us determined. If our means, sir, of repelling 

7 # 



7S 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



the attacks of France, were less than they really are, they 
might be rendered all-sufficient, by resolution and courage. 
It is in these that the strength of nations consists, and not in 
fleets, nor armies, nor population, nor money : in the " uncon- 
querable will ; the courage never to submit or yield." 

These are the true sources of national greatness ; and to 
use the words of a celebrated writer, " where these means 
are not wanting, all others will be^ found or created." It was 
these that made Rome the mistress of the world, and Athens 
the protectress of Greece. 



The second left position 
is just the reverse of the 
second right. The pupil 
will see by the Figure that 
the right foot now sup- 
ports the weight of the 
body, while the left foot 
touches the floor but light- 




ly, and the right heel is 
turned a little more out- 
ward. A careful observ- 
ance of the four positions 
described is important to 
a free, graceful and manly 
action. 



LESSON XIX. 



THE THREE DOVES.— Aldrich. 

As a mother wan and weeping, 
Sad and silent watch was keeping 
O'er her faintly breathing child, 
By too flattering hope beguiled, 
A gentle slumber came to bless 
Softening down her wretchedness, 
When beheld she in her dreaming 
On the sky a halo gleaming, 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 79 

And with her strange vision blending 
Saw two white doves thence descending, 
A moment o'er the child they hovered, 
When the mother well discovered 
'"Neath the keen stars brightly burning 
Three white doves to heaven returning ! 
Woke she now from joy to weeping, 
Her sweet babe in death was sleeping ! 



LES&ON XX. 

THE CAPTIVE CHIEF— Palmer. 

Pale was the hue of his faded cheek, 

As it leaned on its cold damp pillow ; 
And deep the heave of its troubled breast, 

As the lift of the ocean billow : 
For the thought of the days when his restless foot 

Through the pathless forest bounded, 
And the festive throng by the hunting-fire, 

Where the chase song joyously sounded. 

He had stood in the deadly ambuscade, 

While his warriors were falling around him ; 
He had stood unmoved at the torturing stake, 

Where the foe in his wrath had bound him ; 
He had mocked at pain in every form — 

Had joyed in the post of danger ; 
But his spirit was crushed by the dungeon's gloom, 

And the chain of the ruthless stranger. 



LESSON XXI. 
SPEECH OF LOGAN.— Ashe. 

I appeal to any white man to say, if ever he entered Lo- 
gan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not meat ; if ever he 
came cold and naked, and he clothed him not. During the 
course of the last long and bloody war, Logan remained idle 
in his cabin, and an advocate for peace ! Such was my love 



80 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 






for the whites, that my countrymen pointed as they pass- 
ed, and said, " Logan is the friend of white men / I had even 
thought to have lived with you, but for the injuries of one 
man. Colonel Cresap, the last spring, in cold blood, and un- 
provoked, murdered all the relations of Logan, not sparing 
even my women and children. There runs not a drop of my 
blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me 
for revenge. I have sought it : I have killed many : I have 
fully glutted my vengeance. For my country, I rejoice at 
the beams of peace. But do not harbor a thought that mine 
is the joy of fear ! Logan never felt fear ! He will not turn 
on his heel to save his life ! Who is there to mourn for Lo- 
gan ? Not one!" 



LESSON XXII, 



A MOTHER'S LOVE.— Miss Taylor. 

Hast thou sounded the depths of yonder sea, 
And counted the sands that under it be ? 
Hast thou measured the height of heaven above ? 
Then mayst thou mete out a mother's love. 

Hast thou talked with the blessed of leading on 
To the throne of God some wandering son ? 
Hast thou witnessed the angel's bright employ ? 
Then may'st thou speak of a mother's joy. 

There is not a grand, inspiring thought, 
There is not a truth by wisdom taught, 
There is not a feeling, pure and high, 
That may not be read in a mother's eye. 

There are teachings on earth, and sky, and air ; 

The heavens the glory of God declare ; 

But louder than voice beneath, above, 

He is heard to speak through a mother's love. 






LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 



81 



LESSON XXIII. 

THE PATRIOT WARRIOR'S DIRGE— Anonymous. 

Waft, waft ye winds, your rending tale I 

Go, bid the nation weep ; 
The chief, beloved, is lying bound 

In death's unconscious sleep. 

The warrior-heart in days of dread 

That felt the startling thrill — 
That bounded 'mid the battle's fires. 

Is pulseless now and still. 

In war he won, in peace he wore 

Fame's rich undying wreath ; 
But ah ! that brow is wearing now. 

The diadem of death ! 

Waft, waft ye winds, with mournful speed ! 

Haste with your tale of gloom ; 
Tell youthful hearts, a deathless name, 

Alonef survives the tomb. 




It will sometimes be necessary 
to change the positions of the 
feet ; this the pupil should learn 
to do with freedom and simplici- 
ty. In changing from the first 
right to the second, the left foot 
slides back about four inches, 
and receives the weight of the 
body, while the right foot natu- 
rally follows it and rests lightly 
upon the floor, at the same dis- 
tance from it, as before the posi- 
tion was changed. In changing 
from the second right to the first, 
the right foot slides forward and 
receives the weight of the body, 
while the left follows it and rests 
lightly behind it. 




82 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

LESSON XXIV. 
REFLECTIONS IN A VAULT. — Hervey. 

Good Heavens ! what a solemn scene ! How dismal the 
gloom! Here is perpetual darkness and night even at noon- 
day. — How doleful the solitude ! Not one trace of cheerful 
society ; but sorrow and terror seem to have made this their 
dreadful abode. — Hark! how the hollow dome resounds at 
every tread. The echoes, that long have slept, are awaken- 
ed; and lament and sigh along the walls. — Hark again ! what 
sound is that ! — In such a situation, every noise alarms.— 
Solemn and slow, it breaks upon the silent air, — it is the stri- 
king of the clock. Designed, one would imagine to ratify all 
my serious meditations. Methinks, it says Amen, and sets a 
seal to every improving hint. It tells me that another portion 
of my appointed time is elapsed. It is the knell of my depart- 
ed hours. O may the admonition sink deep into an attentive 
and obedient mind. May it teach me that heavenly arith- 
metic, "of numbering my days, and applying my heart unto 
wisdom." . 



LESSON XXV. 
FREDERICK THE GREAT—Haven. 

Are these the dictates of eternal truth ? 

These the glad news your boasted reason brings ? 
Can these control the restless fire of youth, 

The craft of statesmen, or the pride of kings ? 

Whence is the throb that swells my rising breast^ 
What lofty hopes my beating heart inspire ? 

Why do I proudly spurn inglorious rest, 
Tne pomp of wealth, the tumult of desire ? 

Is it to swell the brazen trump of fame, 
To bind the laurel round an aching head, 

To hear for once a people's loud acclaim, 
Then lie forever with the nameless dead ? 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 83 

Oh no ! far nobler hopes my life control, 
Presenting scenes of splendor, yet to be ; — 

Great God ! thy word directs the lofty soul 
To live for glory, not for man, but thee. 




LESSON XXVI. 

COLUMBIA.— Dwight. 

Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, 

The queen of the world and the child of the skies J 

Thy genius commands thee ; with rapture behold, 

While ages on ages thy splendors unfold. 

Thy reign is the last, and the noblest of time, 

Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime, 

Let the crimes of the east ne'er encrimson thy name, 

Be freedom, and science, and virtue, thy fame. 

To conquest and slaughter let Europe aspire ; 
Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire ; 
Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend, 
And triumph pursue them, and glory attend. 
A world is thy realm : for a world be thy laws, 
Enlarged as thine empire, and just as thy cause ; 
On freedom's broad basis, that empire shall rise, 
Extend with the main, and dissolve with the skies. 



LESSON XXVII. 
ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG.— Logan. 

Now is your golden age. The morning of life rejoices 
over your head; every thing around you puts on a smiling 
appearance. All nature wears a face of beauty, and is ani- 
mated with a spirit of joy. You walk up and down in a new 
world ; you crop the unblown flower, and drink the untasted 
spring. Full of spirit, and high in hope, you set out on the 
journey of life : Visions of bliss present themselves to view : 
Dreams of joy, with sweet delusion, amuse the vacant mind: 
You listen and accord to the song of hope, " To-morrow shall 



84 THIS YOUNG SPEAKER. 

be as • this day, and much more abundant." But ah! my 
friends, the flattering scene will not last. The spell is 
quickly broken, and the enchantment soon over. God forbid, 
that I should anticipate the evil day, unless I could arm you 
against it now ; then remember your Creator ; consecrate to 
him the early period of your days, and the light of his coun- 
tenance will shine upon you through life. Then, let the 
tempest beat and the floods descend, you are safe and happy 
under the shelter of the Rock of Ages, 



LESSON XXVIII. 

THE SLEEPER.— Anonymous. 

My master traveled far away, 

And left me much to do ; 
Alas ! I trifled all the day, 

Although my days were few. 

Wandering and playing like a child, 

And moved by every wind, 
The fleeting moments I beguiled, 

Forgetting that I sinned. 

I went to sleep like all the rest, 

Whilst time seemed still and dumb ; 

But soon he struck upon my breast, 
And cried, " Thy Master's come. 5 ' 

'Twas grass cut down by sudden mower, 
Or tree by lightning's stroke : — 

" Oh ! time, time, time, is this the hour V 
And, trembling, I awoke. 



LESSON XXIX. 

THE SWISS COWHERD'S SONG.— Montgomery. 

O, when shall I visit the land of my birth, 
The loveliest land on the face of the earth : 
When shall I those scenes of affection explore, 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 



85 



Our forests, our fountains, 

Our hamlets, our mountains, 
With the pride of our mountains the maid I adore t 
O, when shall I dance on the daisy-white mead, 
In the shade of an elm, to the sound of the reed ? 

When shall I return to that lovely retreat, 
Where all my fond objects of tenderness meet,— • 
The lambs and the heifers that follow my call, 

My father, my mother, 

My sister, my brother, 
And dear Isabella, the joy of them all ? 
O, when shall I visit the land of my birth ? 
'Tis the loveliest land on the face of the earth. 




The positions of the left foot 
are changed in precisely the 
same manner as those of the 
right foot, described on page 81. 




LESSON XXX. 

INFLUENCE OF OUR COUNTRY.— Beman. 

{ Far be it from me to cherish, in any shape, a spirit of na. 
tional prejudice, or to excite in others a disgusting national 
vanity. But when I reflect upon the part which this country 

8 



86 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

is probably to act in the renovation of the world, I rejoice 
that I am a citizen of this great Republic. The character 
and institutions of our country have already produced a deep 
impression upon the world we inhabit. What but our exam- 
ple has stricken the chains of despotism from the provinces of 
South America — giving, by a single impulse, freedom to half 
a hemisphere ? A Washington here, has created a Bolivar 
there. The flag of independence which has long waved from 
the summit of our Alleghany, has now been answered by a 
corresponding signal from the heights of the Andes. And the 
same spirit, too, that came across the Atlantic wave with the 
pilgrims, and made the rock of Plymouth the corner-stone of 
freedom and of this Republic, is traveling back to the East. 
It has already carried its influence into the cabinets of prin- 
ces ; and it is, at this moment, sung by the Grecian bard, and 
emulated by the Grecian hero. 



LESSON XXXI. 

ONE GOOD TURN DESERVES ANOTHER.— Mrs. Gilman. 

Will Wag went to see Charley Quirk, 

More famed for his books than his knowledge, 

In order to borrow a work 

He had sought for in vain over college. 

But Charley replied, " My dear friend, 
You must know I have sworn and agreed, 

My books from my room not to lend, — 
But you may sit by my fire and read." 

Now it happened, by chance, on the morrow, 
That Quirk, with a cold, quivering air, 

Came his neighbor Will's bellows to borrow, 
For his own they were out of repair. 

But Willy replied, " My dear friend, 

I have sworn and agreed, you must know, 

That my bellows I never will lend, — 
But you may sit by my fire and blow." 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 87 

LESSON XXXII. 

THE SAILOR'S DEPARTURE.— Miss Bailie. 

Oh ! fresh blows the gale, o'er the wide mantling ocean, 
And proudly the frigate repels the white foam ; 

And high beats my heart with tumultuous emotion, 
On leaving for fortune my dear native home. 

Perhaps for the last time my father has blessed me ; 

I see his white locks, and the tears on his cheek ; 
And my mother, how close to her bosom she pressed me, 

And kissed me and sobbed as her kind heart would break. 

I may roam through the wide world, and friendship may 
court me, 

And love on my heart its soft characters trace ; 
But ne'er shall affection lend aught to support me, 

So sacred, so pure, as that parting embrace. 

Friends and protectors ! when dangers surround me, 

When pleasure, when wealth, spread their lures for my 
fame, 

That moment's good angel shall hover around me, 
To chase every thought would dishonor your name. 



LESSON XXXIII. 

POWER OF DEATH.— Crafts. 

Death has been among us, my friends, and has left a mel- 
ancholy chasm. He has torn his victim from the heart of 
society, and from the altar of the living God. He has 
triumphed over the blushing honors of youth, the towering 
flight of genius, and the sacred ardor of devotion. Virtue, 
philanthropy, religion, are bereaved, and in tears. Death, 
terrible and insatiate, has been among us, and we are met to 
pay him tribute. O thou destroyer of human hope and hap- 
piness ! Was there no head, frosted by time, and bowed with 
cares, to which thy marble pillow could have yielded rest ? 
Was there no heart-broken sufferer to seek refuge from his 



88 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



woes in thy cheerless habitation ? Was there no insulated 
being, whose crimes or miseries would have made thee wel- 
come ! who had lived without a friend, and could die without 
a mourner. These, alas, could give no celebrity to thy con- 
quests, for they fall, unheeded as the zephyr. Thy trophies 
are the gathered glories of learning, the withered hopes of 
usefulness, the tears of sorrowing innocence, the soul-appal- 
ing cries of the widow and the orphan. Thou delightest to 
break our happiness into fragments, and to tear our hearts 
asunder. 




To change from the second right 
position to the second left, the head 
is first turned, the eye resting on the 
point to which the position is to be 
directed, then, the right foot, with 
the heel turned a little outward horn. 
its former position, slides out in a 
straight line to the right about four- 
inches, and receives the weight of 
the body ; while the left foot, with 
the heel turned a little more inward, 
is drawn in about the same distance, 
and touches the floor but lightly. 
The change from the second left to 
the second right is made in precisely _ 
the same manner. 




LESSON XXXIV. 
THE DEATH BED— Hood. 

We watched her breathing through the night* 

Her breathing soft and low, 
As in her breast the wave of life 

Kept heaving to and fro ! 

So silently we seemed to speak — 
So slowly moved about ! 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 89 

As we had lent her half our powers, 
To eke her living out. 

Our very hopes belied our fears, 

Our fears our hopes belied, — 
We thought her dying when she slept, 

And sleeping when she died ! 

For when the morn came dim and sad — 

And chill with early showers, 
Her quiet eyelids closed — she had 

Another morn than ours. 



LESSON XXXV. 

LIFE WITHOUT FREEDOM— Moore. 

From life without freedom, oh ! who would not fly ? 
For one day of freedom, oh ! who would not die ? 
Hark ! hark ! 't is the trumpet ! the call of the brave, 
The death-song of tyrants and dirge of the slave. 
Our country lies bleeding — oh ! fly to her aid ; 
One arm that defends is worth hosts that invade. 
From life without freedom, oh ! who would not fly ? 
For one day of freedom, oh ! who would not die ? 

In death's kindly bosom our last hope remains — 
The dead fear no tyrants, the grave has no chains ! 
On, on to the combat ! the heroes that bleed 
For virtue and mankind are heroes indeed. 
And oh ! even if Freedom from this world be driven, 
Despair not — at least we shall find her in heaven. 
In death's kindly bosom our last hope remains, 
The dead fear no tyrants ? the grave has no chains. 



LESSON XXXVI. 
JACK HALYARD'S SPEECH.— Cardell. 

Young men, Americans, far from you be that mean spirit, 
which is satisfied with half-way excellence. Strive to gain 

8* 



90 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

the highest badge of honor for yourselves, and for your coun- 
try. Be greatly good. Now is the time to store your minds 
with knowledge, and form your hearts to virtue. It is the 
condition of our being, that all which is most valuable is to 
be diligently sought. They who would win the prize, must 
exert themselves earnestly in the race, and not fall back, nor 
turn aside for small obstacles. 

Young men of America, can you be ignorant of the high 
duties to which you are called ? Will you pass away the 
prime of your days in careless indolence, and cheat the fair 
hopes of your friends ? Can you be contented to crawl 
through the world with infamy, and die without doing any- 
thing worthy of your character as men ? 

My young countrymen, — your lot is cast in a land where 
empire is built on truth and justice ; where the rights of man 
are cherished : you are to follow where a Washington has 
led, and where victory can gain no laurels in a bad cause. 




LESSON XXXVII. 



THE GREEK ISLANDER IN EXILE— Mrs. Hemans 



A Greek Islander being taken to the Vale of Tempe, and called upon to 
admire its beautiful scenery, replied, " Yes, all is fair ; but the sea — where 
is the sea V 

Where is the sea ? — I languish here — 

Where is my own blue sea ? 
With all its barks of fleet career, 

And flags and breezes free ! 

I miss that voice of waves — the first 

That woke my childish glee : 
The measured chime — the thundering burst — 

Where is my own blue sea ? 

Oh ! rich your myrtles' breath may rise, 

Soft, soft, your winds may be ; 
Yet my sick heart within me dies — 

Where is my own blue sea ? 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 



91 



I hear the shepherd's mountain flute, 
I hear the whispering tree — 

The echoes of my soul are mute — 
Where is my own blue sea ? 




To change from the first right 
position to the first left, the head is 
first turned, the eye resting on the 
point to which the position is to be 
directed, the left foot then slides 
forward and receives the weight of 
the body, while the right foot fol- 
lows, and at the proper distance, 
rests lightly behind it. The change 
from the first left to the first right 
is made in precisely the same man- 
ner. 




LESSON XXXVIIL 
ADVERSITY.— Anonymous. 

Adversity, thy malice cease — 

In vain thy hope to wound my peace ; 

Thy shafts are idly spent : — ■ 
The full extent of grief and woe, 
With all thy spite, I cannot know ; 

For I am innocent. 



For innocence can make the soul, 
Possessed of tranquil self-control, 

Always enjoy content : 
Remorse alone can make thy dart 
Corrode the sinner's guilty heart, 

And I am innocent. 



92 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Disgrace and scorn I can endure, 
In conscious rectitude secure, 

And though they ne'er relent, 
To every ill I am resigned, 
Since He who sees the inmost mind 

Knows I am innocent. 



LESSON XXXIX. 

TO THE SEA.— Keate. 

Hail ! thou inexhaustible source of wonder and contempla- 
tion ! Hail ! — Hail thou multitudinous ocean ! How glori- 
ous ! how awful, how beautiful are the scenes thou display - 
est ! when every wind is hushed, when the morning sun sil- ; 
vers the level line of the horizon, — when its evening track is 
marked with flaming gold, and thy unrippled bosom reflects 
the radiance of the overarching heavens ! — in thy terrors ! 
when the black tempest sweeps thy swelling billows, and the 
boiling surge mixes with the clouds, — when death rides the 
storm, and humanity drops a fruitless tear for the poor mar- 
iner. 

And yet, mighty deep! 'tis thy surface alone we view. — ! 
Who can penetrate the secrets of thy wide domain ? Great 
and mighty art thou, O ocean ! Terrible as a giant in his 
strength. Placid and gentle art thou, O sea ! Beautiful as 
a babe in its first dream. He permitteth thy stormy anger — 
thy desolating rage ! He lulleth thee with the breath of 
heaven ! — graceth thee with the blue and the beauty of day ! 
He hath laid sure thy foundations — His voice hath said thus 
far shalt thou go — here shall thy proud waves be stayed. 



LESSON XL. 
A SUDDEN CALM IN THE PACIFIC— Coleridge. 

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, 

The furrow streamed off free : 
We were the first that ever burst 

Into that silent sea. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 93 

Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down, 

'Twas sad as sad could be ; 
And we did speak only to break 

The silence of the sea. 

All in a hot and copper sky, 

The bloody sun, at noon; 
Right up above the mast did stand, 

No bigger than the moon. 

Day after day, day after day, 

We struck, nor breath nor motion ; 
As idle as a painted ship 

Upon a painted ocean. 

Water, water, everywhere, 

And all the boards did shrink ; 
Water, water, everywhere, 

But not a drop to drink. 



LESSON XLI. 

AMBITION FALSE AND TRUE— Anonymous, 

I would not wear the warrior's wreath, 

I would not court his crown ; 
For love and virtue sink beneath 

His dark and vengeful frown. 

I would not seek my fame to build 

On glory's dizzy height ; 
Her temple is with orphans filled ; 

Blood soils her sceptre bright. 

I would not wear the diadem, 

By folly prized so dear ; 
For want and woe have bought each gem, 

And every pearl 's a tear. 

I would not heap the golden chest, 
That sordid spirits crave ; 



94 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



For every gain, — by penury curst,- 
Is gathered from the grave. 

No ; let my wreath unsullied be ; 

My fame be virtuous youth ; 
My wealth be kindness, charity ; 

My diadem be truth. 



It is much to the credit of the young speaker when 
he comes before his audience with a neat and graceful 
bow. The figure presents the side view of a bey making 
his bow. The pupil, with a gentle but assured step, ap- 
proaches to near the front of the platform, a little on the 
right of the centre, then pausing for a moment in the first 
right position, he casts his eyes with a diffident respect, 
over the audience ; slides out his left foot on the toe, in a 
straight line ; then, supporting the body on that foot, he 
draws in the right foot until its heel comes into the mid- 
die or hollow of the left foot ; he then presses his legs 
together, and dropping his eyes modestly to the floor P 
brings his body into a slight and graceful curve, the arms 
hanging perfectly free. In this posture the body is kept 
for an instant ; he then rises slowly to an erect attitude^ 
and resumes the first right position, when he is ready to ! 
commence speaking. There should be no parade or afTec- ! 
tation, but all marked by the manliness of a noble boy j 
who thinks more of propriety and excellence than he 
does of mere show. 
Some teachers instruct their pupils to look directly in the eyes of those 

to whom they are bowing ; this mode, if preferred, can be adopted 

without any injury to the other directions here given. 




LESSON XLII. 



REPLY TO THE DUKE OF GRAFTON.— Thurlow. 

My Lords : — I am amazed, yes, my Lords, I am amazed 
at his Grace's speech. The noble duke cannot look before 
him, behind him, or on either side of him, without seeing some 
noble peer, who owes his seat in this house to his successful 
exertions, in the profession to which I belong. Does he not 
feel that it is as honorable to owe it to these, as to being the 
accident of an accident ? — To all these noble lords, the Ian- 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 95 

guage of the noble duke is as applicable and as insulting as it 
is to myself. But I don't fear to meet it single and alone. No 
one venerates the peerage more than I do — but, my lords, I must 
say that the peerage solicited me, — not I the peerage. Nay 
more, — I can say and will say, that as a peer of parliament, — 
as speaker of this right honorable house, — as keeper of the 
great seal, — as guardian of his majesty's conscience, — as 
lord high chancellor of England, — nay, even in that charac- 
ter alone, in which the noble duke would think it an affront to 
be considered — but which character none can deny me — as a * 
man, I am at this moment as respectable ; I beg leave to add 
— I am, at this time as much respected, as the proudest peer 
I now look down upon. 



LESSON XLIII. 
AN INFANT KILLED BY LIGHTNING.— Clare. 

As fearless as a cherub's rest 

Now safe above the cloud, 
A babe lay on its mother's breast, 

When thunders roared aloud; 
It started not to hear the crash, 

But held its little hand 
Up, at the lightning's fearful flash, 

To catch the burning brand ! 

The tender mother stayed her breath 

In more than grief, awhile, 
To think the thing that brought its death, 

Should cause the babe to smile. 
Aye, it did smile a heavenly smile, 

To see the lightning play ; 
Well might she shriek when it turned pale, 

And yet it smiled in clay. 

O woman ! the dread storm was given 

To be to each a friend : 
It took thy infant pure, to heaven — 

Left thee impure to mend. 
Thus Providence will oft appear 

From God's own mouth to preach : 
Ah ! would we were as prone to hear, 

As mercy is to teach. 



96 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

LESSON XLIV. 
ASPIRATIONS OF YOUTH.— -Montgomery. 

Higher, higher will we climb, 

Up the mount of glory, 
That our names may live through time, 

In our country's story; 
Happy, when her welfare calls, 
He who conquers, he who falls. 

Deeper, deeper let us toil 
In the mines of knowledge ; 

Nature's wealth, and learning's spoil, 
Win from school and college; 

Delve we there for richer gems, 

Than the stars of diadems. 

Onward, onward may we press, 
Through the path of duty ; 

Virtue is true happiness, 
Excellence true beauty; 

Minds are of celestial birth, — 

Make we then a heaven of earth. 

Closer, closer let us knit 
Hearts and hands together, 

Where our fireside comforts sit, 
In the wildest weather; 

Oh ! they wander wide who roam 

From the joys of life and home. 



LESSON XLV. 

INDIGNANT REBUKE.— Chatham. 

I am astonished, my lords, to hear such principles confess- 
ed ! I am shocked to hear them avowed in this House, or in 
this country ! Principles equally unconstitutional, inhuman, 
and unchristian ! My Lords, I did not intend to encroach 
again on your attention, but I cannot repress my indignation. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 



97 



I feel myself impelled by every duty. My lords, we are call- 
ed upon as members of this House, as men, as Christian men, 
to protest against such notions standing near the throne, pol- 
luting the ear of Majesty. " That God and nature put into 
our hands." I know not what ideas that lord may entertain 
of God and nature ; but I know that such abominable princi- 
ples are equally abhorrent to religion and humanity. What ! 
to attribute the sacred sanction of God and nature to the mas- 
sacres of the Indian scalping knife ! to the cannibal savage, 
torturing, murdering, roasting, and eating; literally, my 
lords, eating the mangled victims of his barbarous battles! 
Such horrible notions shock every precept of religion, divine or 
natural, and every generous feeling of humanity. And, my 
lords, they shock every sentiment of honor ; they shock 
me as a defender of honorable war, and a detester of murder- 
ous barbarity. 



LESSON XLVL 



THE LITTLE HUSBANDMAN.— Anonymous. 

I'm a little husbandman, 
Work and labor hard I can ; 
I'm as happy all the day, 
At my work, as if 'twere play ; 
Though I've nothing fine to wear, 

— this is called the course 
of the gesture; it strikes 
upon the word that, print- 
ed in italic letters — this 



This Figure represents 
a boy standing, as the pu- 
pil will see, in the first 
right position, and ma- 
king what may be called 
the first right hand ges- 
ture, palm up. It is the 
first of a class of three. 
The Figure is placed 
above the language which 
the boy is supposed to be 
speaking. The hand be- 
gins to move at the word 
for, where this mark | is 
placed ; it goes from the 
little star at the side of 
the Figure, and passes in 
a curved direction, as 
shown by the dotted line 




is called the stroke of the 
gesture; and it falls to 
the side at the word not, 
where this mark ) is pla- 
ced. As here applied, it 
is an emphatic gesture ; 
but it is proper also to the 
denoting of objects suppo- 
sed to be near to or upon 
the earth, and not far 
from the speaker's feet — 
as flowers, the grave, a 
dog, and the like. When 
thus used it is a signifi- 
cant gesture. 



Yet | for that I do not ) care. 
9 



98 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

When to work I go along, 
Singing loud my morning song ; 
With my wallet on my back, 
Or my wagon-whip to smack ; 
O, I am as happy then, 
As the idle gentleman. 

I've a hearty appetite, 
And I soundly sleep at night ; 
Down I lie content, and say, 
I've been useful all the day ; 
I'd rather be a plough-boy, than 
A useless little gentleman. 



LESSON XLVII. 



THE ALARM.— Whittier. 

Up the hillside, down the glen, 
Rouse the sleeping citizen, 

Summon out the might of men ! 

Like a lion crouching low, 
Like a night-storm rising slow, 
Like the tread of unseen foe — 

It is coming — it is nigh ! 

Stand your homes and altars by ! 

On your own free hearthstones die ! 

Clang the bells in all your spires ! 
On the gray hills of your sires, 
Fling to heaven your signal fires ! 

O, for God and Duty stand, 

Heart to heart, and hand with hand, 

Round the old graves of your land ; 

Whoso shrinks and falters now, 
Whoso to the yoke would bow, 
Brand the craven on his brow. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 99 

LESSON XLVIIL 

WHY WE DO NOT EXCEL IN ORATORY.— Knowles. 

The principal cause of our not excelling in oratory is — our 
neglecting to cultivate the art of speaking — of speaking our 
own language. We acquire the power of expressing our 
ideas, almost insensibly — we consider it as a thing that is 
natural to us ; we do not regard it as an art — it is an art — a 
difficult art— an intricate art — and our ignorance of that cir- 
cumstance, or our omitting to give it due consideration is the 
cause of our deficiency. 

In the infant just beginning to articulate, you will observe 
every inflection that is recognized in the most accurate trea- 
tise on elocution — you will observe, further, an exact pro- 
portion in its several cadences, and a speaking expression in 
its tones. I say, you w r ill observe these things in almost ev- 
ery infant. Select a dozen men — men of education — erudi- 
tion — ask them to read a piece of animated composition — 
you will be fortunate if you find one in the dozen, that can 
raise or depress his voice — inflect or modulate it as the varie- 
ty of the subject requires. What has become of the inflec- 
tions, the cadences, the modulation of the infant ? They have 
not been exercised — they have been neglected — they have 
never been put into the hands of the artist, that he might ap- 
ply them to their proper use — they have been laid aside, 
spoiled, abused, and, ten to one, they will never be good for 
anything ! 



LESSON XLIX. 

HOW OLD ART THOU.— l. h. c. 

Count not thy days that have idly flown, 

The years that were vainly spent, 
Nor speak of the hours thou must blush to own, 
When thy spirit stands before the throne, 
To account for the talents lent. 

But number the hours redeemed from sin, 
The moments employed for heaven ; 



100 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER, 



Oh ! few and evil thy days have been, 
Thy life a toilsome and worthless scene, 
For a nobler purpose given. 

Will the shade go back on thy dial-plate ? 

Will thy sun stand still on his way ? 
Both hasten on, and thy spirit's fate 
Rests on the point of life's little date ; 



This Figure exhibits 
the second or middle 
right hand gesture, 
palm up. The hand 
begins to move the in- 
stant the word is drops 
from the lips ; the 
course of the gesture 
is circular till it rises 
to about the height of 
the shoulder, when it 
passes to the right in 
nearly a$traight line ; 
the stroke comes upon 
the word to-day ; and 
the hand falls to the 
side or comes to rest, 
as it is called, with the 
first word of the next 
line. The position is 
the same as in the Fig- 
ure on page 97 — the 




first right; but the pu- 
pil will notice that the 
feet are a little far- 
ther apart. This is 
the consequence of a 
stronger emphasis. — 
Supposing the speak- 
er, as he makes the ges- 
ture, to change from 
the second right posi- 
tion, the earnestness of 
his admonition would 
necessarily occasion 
this difference. This 
gesture is well applied 
in asking emphatic 
questions, and it may 
be used also, as a sig- 
nificant gesture, in 
denoting persons or 
things at some dis- 
tance from the speaker, 



Then live while while it is | called to-day ! 

Life's ) waning hours like the sybil's page, 

As they lessen, in value rise ; 
Oh ! arouse thee and live ; nor deem that man's age 
Stands in the length of his pilgrimage, 

But in days that are truly wise. 



LESSON L. 



ON LAYING THE CORNER STONE OF THE BUNKER- 
HILL MONUMENT.— Pierpont. 

O, is not this a holy spot ? 

'Tis the high place of freedom's birth ! 
God of our fathers ! is it not 

The holiest spot of all the earth ? 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 101 

Quenched is thy flame on Horeb's side ; 

The robber roams o'er Sinai now ; 
And those old men, thy seers, abide 

No more on Zion's mournful brow. 

But on this hill, thou, Lord, hast dwelt, 
Since round its head the war-cloud curled, 

And wrapped our fathers, where they knelt 
In prayer and battle for a world. 

Here sleeps their dust : 't is holy ground : 

And we, the children of the brave, 
From the four winds are gathered round, 

To lay our offering on their grave. 

Free as the winds around us blow, 

Free as the waves below us spread, 
We rear a pile, that long shall throw 

Its shadow on their sacred bed. 

But on their deeds no shade shall fall, 

While o'er their couch thy sun shall flame : 

Thine ear was bowed to hear their call, 
And thy right hand shall guard their fame. 



LESSON LI. 

NOBLE INSPIRATION.— Hervey. 

When the keen eyed eagle soars above all the feathered 
race, and leaves their very sight below ; when she wings 
her way with direct ascent, up the steep of heaven ; and 
steadily gazing on the meridian sun, accounts its beaming 
splendors all her own : does she then regard, with any soli- 
citude, the mote that is flying in the air, or the dust which 
she shook from her feet ? No. Shall then this eternal mind, 
which is capable of contemplating its Creator's glory ; which 
is intended to enjoy the visions of his countenance ; shall this 
eternal mind, endowed with such great capacities and made 
for such exalted ends, be so ignobly ambitious, as to sigh for 
the tinsels of state \ or so poorly covetous, as to grasp after 

9* 



102 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

ample territories on a needle's point 1 Under the influence 
of such considerations, I feel my sentiments expand, and my 
wishes acquire a turn of sublimity. — Too long have my affec- 
tions been pinioned by vanity, and immured in this earthly 
clod. But these thoughts break the shackles. These objects 
open the door of liberty. My soul, fired by such noble pros- 
pects, weighs anchor from this little nook, and coasts no longer 
about its contracted shores, doats no longer on its painted 
shells. The immensity of things is her range, and an infinity 
of bliss is her aim. 



LESSON LII. 

ON SEEING TWINS LYING DEAD.— Montgomery. 

'Twas summer, and a Sabbath eve, 

And balmy was the air, 
I saw a sight that made me grieve, 

And yet that sight was fair ; 
For in a little coffin lay 
Two lifeless babes, as sweet as May. 

Like waxen dolls that infants dress, 

There little bodies were; 
A look of placid happiness 

Did on each face appear ; 
And in a coffin short and wide 
They lay together side by side. 

A rosebud, nearly closed, I found 

Each little hand within, 
And many a pink was strewed around, 

With sprigs of Jessamine ; 
But all the flowers that round them lay 
Were not to me so sweet as they. 

Their mother as a lily pale, 

Sat near them on a bed, 
And, bending o'er them, told her tale, 

And many a tear she shed; 
But oft she cried amidst her pain, 
" My babes and I shall meet again/' 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 103 

LESSON LIII. 
THE SAILOR BOY'S FAREWELL.— Mrs. Hale. 

Hark ! hark ! 'tis the signal ! 
The breezes are steady, 
The anchor is weighing, 
And we must be ready. 
Farewell, my dear mother, 
I fear thou'lt be lonely — 
But oh, do not sorrow, 
I '11 think of thee only. 

And dread not the danger, 
Though I 'm on the billow ; 
I know my kind Savior 
Will watch o'er my pillow ; 
The sea owns his sceptre, 
When its path he was treading, 
The winds and the water 
Grew calm at his bidding. 

We '11 trust him, we '11 trust him, 
We '11 pray, and he '11 hear us, 
On land or on water 
Alike he '11 be near us — 
Let this song bear to him 
Our heart's pure devotion, 
And under his guidance, 
I '11 launch on the ocean. 



LESSON LIV. 
OUR DEAR AND NATIVE LAND.— Webster. 

It is not to inflate national vanity, nor to swell a light and 
empty feeling of self-importance, but it is that we may judge 
justly of our situation, and of our own duties, that I urge the 
consideration of our position, and our character, among the 
nations of the earth. It cannot be denied, but by those who 
would dispute against the sun, that with America, and in 
America, a new era commences in human affairs. This era 



104 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

is distinguished by Free Representative Governments, by en 
tire religious liberty, by improved systems of national inter 
course, by a newly awakened, and an unconquerable spirit < 
free inquiry, and by a diffusion of knowledge through the 
community, such as has been before altogether unknown and 
unheard of. America, America, our country, fellow citizens, 
our own dear and native land, is inseparably connected, fast 
bound up in fortune and by fate, with these great interests. 
If they fall, we fall with them ; if they stand, it will be be- 
cause we have upholden them. Let us contemplate, then, 
this connexion, which binds the prosperity of others to our 
own ; and let us manfully discharge all the duties which it 
imposes. If we cherish the virtues, and the principles of our 
fathers, Heaven will assist us to carry on the work of human 
liberty and human happiness. Auspicious omens cheer us. 
Great examples are before us. Our own firmament now 
shines brightly upon our path. Washington is in the clear 
upper sky. Those other stars, Adams and Jefferson, have 
joined the American constellation ; they circle round their 
centre, and the heavens beam with new light. Beneath this 
illumination, let us walk the course of life, and at its close 
devoutly commend our beloved country, the common parent 
of us all, to the Divine Benignity, 



LESSON LV. 

LIBERTY.— Percival. 

Beneath our country's flag we stand, 

And give our hearts to thee, 

Bright power, who steel'st and nerv'st our hand, 

Thou first born, Liberty ! 

Here, on our swords we swear to give 

Our willing lives, that thou may'st live ! 

For thee, the Spartan youth of old, 

To death devoted, fell ! 

Thy spirit made the Roman bold, 

And fired the patriot Tell ! 

Our sires, on Bunker, fought for thee — 

Undaunted fought, and we are free ! 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 



105 



This is the third 
right hand gesture, 
palm up. The hand 
begins to move at the 
word run, and gradual- 
ly mounts through the 
course of the gesture 
till it reaches the word 
high, upon which word 
comes the stroke of the 
gesture. The figures 
of this class exhibit, to- 
gether, the three most 
important positions of 
the arm. The arm of 
the second Figure, is 
nearly horizontal, the 
hand being on a level 
with the shoulder ; that 
of the first falls about 
the same distance be- 
low, as the arm of the 
third rises above it. 
The arm of each Fig- 




ure is directed mode' 
rately forward, in a 
line nearly with the 
right foot, having a ve- 
ry slight bend at the el- 
bow. The palm of the 
hand is upward; the 
fingers nearly straight, 
but not stiffened; the 
thumb turned upward ; 
the first or fore finger 
being a little straighter 
than the others, which 
curve inward as the 
arm rises and the ges- 
ture becomes more em- 
phatic. The pupil will 
notice that the feet, in 
this Figure, are still far- 
ther apart, than they 
are in that on page 100. 
The extension arises 
from the spirited eleva-* 
tion of the gesture. 



| Run up your starry flag on high ! 

No storm ) shall rend its folds ; 

On, like a meteor, through the sky, 

Its steady course it holds. 

Thus high in heaven our flag unfurled— 

Go, bear it, Freedom, round the world ! 



LESSON LVI. 



A PICTURE.— Anonymous. 



The farmer sat in his easy chair, 

Smoking his pipe of clay, 
While his hale old wife, with busy care, 

Was clearing the dinner away : 
A sweet little girl, with fine blue eyes, 
On her grandpa's knee was catching flies. 

The old man placed his hand on her head, 
With a tear on his wrinkled face — 



106 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

He thought how often her mother dead, 

Had sat in the same, same place : 
As the tear stole down from his half-shut eye, 
Don't smoke, said the child, how it makes you cry ! 

The house-dog lay stretched out on the floor, 
Where the sun, after noon, used to steal — 

The busy old wife, by the open door, 
Was turning the spinning wheel — 

And the old brass clock on the mantel-tree 

Had plodded along to almost three. 

Still the farmer sat in his easy chair, 

While close to his heaving breast ; 
The moistened brow and the head so fair, 

Of his sweet grandchild were prest : 
His head bent down, on her soft hair lay — 
Fast asleep, were they both, on that summer day ! 



LESSON LVII. 
SONG OF LOGAN.— Ashe. 

This is the song of the mighty Logan : the conqueror of 
white men : the pride of his nation, and the beloved of the 
Author of life. He was good, valorous, and warlike; the 
soul of his army, and the executor of vengeance. He was 
the light of our camps and villages. His hatchet was always 
raised up in their defense, and his bosom glowed with the love 
of his brethren. 

Logan, valiant and triumphant chieftain ; may the Great 
Spirit, in whose defense you often warred, account with you 
in the Land of Souls, and give you a garden of beauty and 
harmony, and a pond of water like the moon in her full, on 
which the sun reflects his light, and round which the birds and 
beasts may delight to play ! 

Young warriors of Logan's tribe, bear in view the hono 
he reaped when living, and the glorious recompense which 
awaits him dead ! May the Great Spirit prosper his work, 
and never permit his enemies to be avenged of him ! May his 
gardens flourish beyond theirs, and may the fountain of his 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 



107 



waters have flavor and brightness when theirs are putrid and 
dried up ! 

Friends of Logan, mitigate your sorrow ; remember his 
actions ; improve by them ; and let this song go down from 
child to child, to commemorate his virtues and his worth ! 



LESSON LVIII. 

A CHILD'S THOUGHTS.—Anonymous. 

See the sun how broad and red ! 

He seems to touch that elm-tree's head ; 

See, about him cling in crowds, 

Crimson, blue, and golden clouds ; 

And the sky above him glows, 

With a color like the rose. 



This Figure stands in 
the first left position, and 
exhibits the first left hand 
gesture, palm up. The 
pupil has before been told 
that the hand thus pre- 
sented is said to be su- 
pine. The hand, going 
from the little star, begins 
the gesture at the word 
see, and makes its course 
slowly in a gentle curve, 
as shown by the dotted 
line ; its stroke comes ve- 
ry lightly upon the word 
beads, and the hand falls 




to rest at the word hang. 
The pupil must remem- 
ber that it is not consid- 
ered proper to commence 
speaking a piece in the 
left position, nor to 
make the first gesture 
with the left hand. — 
Neither is it in good taste 
to use the left hand as 
frequently as the right , 
especially for the princi- 
pal gesture ; but there are 
cases, where its use is 
strictly correct, and these 
will be explained. 



| See, what little shining leads 
Hang ) upon the flowers and weeds ; 
All the lawn is covered quite, 
With a veil of watery white, 
And the distant meadows seem, 
Almost hid in misty steam. 



108 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Happy birds are on the wing ; 

Hark ! how loud and sweet they sing ! 

See that speck upon the sky ; — 

? Tis a lark ; I saw her fly. 

Happy birds ! I 'm happy too ; 

I will skip and sing with you. 



LESSON LIX. 

THE WAR SONG.— Folsom. 

Is it the welcome roar 

Of thundering signal gun ? — 
Hark ! for the sound bursts through once more, 

Rending night's robe of dun : 

It is the welcome sound, 

The joyous call to war, 
For the near bugle screams around 

The cry to arms — hurrah ! 

See ! yonder comes the foe — 

Rush on with gun and glaive, 
For freedom 'tis ye strike below 

The banner of the brave ; 

On — on, until they fly, 

Their fiercest daring mar — 
'Tis well ! fling down the brand and cry 

The victor shout — hurrah ! 



i 



LESSON LX. 

BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL— Webster. 

It is not as a mere military encounter of hostile armies, tha 
the battle of Bunker Hill founds its principal claim to atten- 
tion. Yet, even as a mere battle, there were circumstances 
attending it, extraordinary in character, and entitling it to pe- 
culiar distinction. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 109 

But the consequences of the battle of Bunker Hill are 
greater than those of any conflict between the hostile armies 
of European powers. It was the first great battle of the 
Revolution ; and not only the first blow, but the blow which 
determined the contest. It did not, indeed, put an end to the 
war, but in the then existing hostile feeling, the difficulties 
could only be referred to the arbitration of the sword. And 
one thing is certain ; that after the New England troops had 
shown themselves able to face and repulse the regulars, it was 
decided that peace could never be established but upon the 
basis of the independence of the colonies. When the sun of 
that day went down, the event of independence was certain ! 
When Washington heard of the battle, he inquired if the mi- 
litia had stood the fire of the regulars ? And when told that 
they had not only stood the fire, but reserved their own until 
the enemy was within eight rods, and then poured it in with 
tremendous effect — " Then/ 5 exclaimed he, "the liberties of 
the country are safe !" 



LESSON LXI. 

TO MY SISTER.— Thatcheh. 

My sister ! Oh, my sister ! 

All other hearts may fail, 
As time and change that visit all, 

Pass o'er them like a gale, 
Dashing the silvery dews of morn, 

From violets of the vale. 

And mournfully, Oh, mournfully, 
The hopes of younger years, 

May fall and leave me, one by one, 
In darkness and in tears, 

Till I shall be the bloomless tree, 
A desert region rears. 

And nothing in that wilderness, 
Though thronged by living men ) 

No, nothing but the memory 
Of joys that once have been, 

Freshen my sultry soul, like airs 
From a fair Indian glen. 
10 



110 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Yet sister ! Oh, my sister ! 

Thou wilt not so forget 
To fan for me the sacred flame, 

In the fond bosom set 
When life was green. Love on ! Love on ! 

It burns, it shrills me yet ! 



LESSON LXII. 
PERSONAL INFLUENCE.— Hervey. 

I have taken a solitary walk on the Western Cliffs. At 
the foot of the steep mountain, the sea all clear and smooth, 
spread itself into an immense plain, and held a watery mirror 
to the skies. Infinite heights above, the firmament stretched 
its azure expanse, bespangled with unnumbered stars, and 
adorned with the moon " walking in brightness." She seem- 
ed to contemplate herself with a peculiar pleasure, while 
the transparent surface both received and returned her silver 
image. Here, instead of being covered with sackcloth, she 
shone with double lustre ; or rather with a lustre multiplied, 
in proportion to the number of beholders, and their various 
situations. 

Such, methinks, is the effect of an exemplary behavior, 
in persons of exalted situations. Their course, as it is nobly 
distinguished, so it will be happily influential. Others will 
catch the diffusive ray, and be ambitious to resemble a pat- 
tern, so attracting, so commanding. Their amiable qualities 
will not terminate in themselves ; but we shall see them re- 
flected from their families and their acquaintance, just as we 
may now behold another moon, trembling in the stream, glit- 
tering in the fountain, and displaying its lovely impress on 
every collection of waters. 



LESSON LXIII. 

THE ORPHAN.— Anonymous. 

1 The wintry wind blows bitter keen, 

Across the wide and dreary waste ; 
The snow o'erlays the extended scene, 
O that this dismal heath were past ! 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 



Ill 



In tatters clad my feeble frame 

Shrinks shivering from the piercing wind ; 
Could I but reach yon glimmering flame, 

Perhaps I might a shelter find." 

Thus moaned the wanderer o'er the moor, 
Hastening to reach the distant cot; — 

Arrived, she gently taps the door, — 
" O will they kindly hear or not V 9 

Wide ope's the door — the sire appears, 
With hoary head and bending form ; 



This is the second or 
middle left hand ges- 
ture, palm up. The 
gesture begins at the 
word why, and its 
course is first circular 
to the shoulder, and 
then in a line, a little 
waving, to the left; 
the stroke occurs on 
why, and is repeated, 
lightly, on tears; the 
hand comes to rest on 
the word shelter. In 
reciting this piece a 
sort of picture is to be 
represented. So the 
positions of the feet are 
necessarily changed 
several times. The 
part of the orphan 
should be done in the 




Jirst right position. The 
speaker, in the narra- 
tive portions, should 
assume the second 
right, as denoting his 
own place in the pic- 
ture ; and the part of 
the aged sire should 
be done in the first 
left, agreeing with the 
Figure. This is a case 
where the left hand 
assumes the principal 
gesture with obvious 
propriety. And by 
this arrangement, each 
character is invested 
with a distinctness and 
life, which could hard- 
ly be given to it by any 
Other mode. 



He kindly asks — | " Why thus in tears ? 
Seek'st thou a shelter) from the storm?" 

^ u Alas !" the trembling wanderer cries, 
" My only home 5 s the dreary wild — 
My father in the cold grave lies, 
Far from his country and his child : 



My mother, too, has bowed her head, 
And sunk into the cold, cold grave ; 

As her departing spirit fled, 

She prayed- — <0 heaven, my orphan save !' 



112 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Heaven sure will answer mother's prayer, 
Be you heaven's messenger to me ; 

Take then — O take into your care, 
An orphan-child of misery!" 

No more she said — the door was closed — 
The storm howled louder o'er the scene ; 

But sweet compassion interposed, 
And drew the shivering orphan in. 



LESSON LXIV. 

AMERICA—HER EXAMPLE.— Phillips. 

Americans ! you have a country vast in extent and em- 
bracing all the varieties of the most salubrious climes ; held ' 
not by charters wrested from unwilling kings, but the boun- 
tiful gift of the Author of nature. The exuberance of your 
population is daily divesting the gloomy wilderness of its 
rude attire, and splendid cities rise to cheer the dreary desert. 
You have a government deservedly celebrated "as giving the 
sanctions of law to the precepts of reason;" presenting, 
instead of the rank luxuriance of natural licentiousness, the 
corrected sweets of civil liberty. You have fought the battles 
of freedom, and enkindled that sacred flame which now glows 
with vivid fervor through the greatest empire in Europe. 
We indulge the sanguine hope, that her equal laws and vir- 
tuous conduct will hereafter afford examples of imitation to 
all surrounding nations. That the blissful period will soon 
arrive when man shall be elevated to his primitive character ; 
when illuminated reason and regulated liberty shall once 
more exhibit him in the image of his Maker ; when all the 
inhabitants of the globe shall be freemen and fellow citizens., 
and patriotism itself be lost in universal philanthropy. Then 
shall volumes of incense incessantly roll from altars inscribed 
to liberty. Then shall the innumerable varieties of the 
human race unitedly " worship in her sacred temple, whose 
pillars shall rest on the remotest corners of the earthy and 
whose arch will be the vault of heaven." 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 



113 



LESSON LXV, 



THE CHARGE.— Percivm,. 



The horn and the trumpet are ringing afar, 

As the summons to battle are sounding ; 
And the steed, as he catches the signal of war, 

In the pride of his spirit is bounding. 
Shrill it echoes afar, over hill and o'er plain, 
And the wide distant mountains repeat it again ; 
And the shout of the warrior, and nearer the song, 
Peal aloud as the glittering bands are hurrying along: 
As on, on, on, on, pours the tide of fight, 
Still aloft floats the tossing flag, in the glance of morning's 
light. 

We leap to our saddles, we range us in line, 
As the voice of the trumpet is calling ; 



This Figure exhibits 
the third left hand ges- 
ture, palm up. It is 
a beautiful significant 
gesture. The hand be- 
gins to move at the 
word yon; the dotted 
line illustrates the 
course of the gesture, 
and the italic word 
ridge, shows where the 
stroke comes ; the hand 
begins to descend at the 
word bright, and comes 
to rest on the word 
drawn. This is anoth- 
er example of an im- jh 
portant gesture made ~~ 




by the left hand. Its 
propriety is obvious. 
The speaker begins in 
the first right position. 
At the wcrds " leaping 
to the saddle," he natu- 
rally changes with a 
spirited motion to the 
first left; and ihe left 
hand as naturally as- 
sumes the first princi- 
pal gesture. The pu- 
pil must remember, 
that wherever it is 
proper to assume the 
left position of the feet, 
it may be proper to use 
the left hand gesture, 



On the crown of j yon ridge, bright their drawn ) sabres shine ; 

Down its slope, like a flood, they are falling. 
" Give the spur to the charge, ere the foeman is nigh : 
Rush amain, as the forest rings loud with your cry : 

10* 



114 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Speed on to the shock, in his midway career — 

For our sires still were first in fight ; they never thought of 

fear !" 
So on, on, on, on, o'er the sounding plain, 
To the wild conflict fierce they rush, and together dash 

amain. 



LESSON LXVI. 

THE SNOW STORM.— Smith. 

The cold winds swept the mountain's height, 
And pathless was the dreary wild, 

And 'mid the cheerless hours of night, 
A mother wandered with her child, 

As through the drifted snow she pressed, 

The babe was sleeping on her breast. 

And colder still the winds did blow, 

And darker hours of night came on, 
And deeper grew the drifts of snow, — 

Her limbs were chilled, her strength was gone; 
"O God," she cried in accents wild, 
"If I must perish, save my child!" 

She stripped her mantle from her breast, 

And bared her bosom to the storm, 
As round the child she wrapped the vest, 

She smiled to think that it was warm. 
With one cold kiss, one tear she shed, 
And sunk upon a snowy bed. 

At dawn, a traveler passed by ; 

She lay beneath a snowy vail, — 
The frost of death was in her eye, 

Her cheek was cold, and hard, and pale ; 
He moved the robe from off the child : 
The babe looked up, and sweetly smiled. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 



115 



LESSON LXVII. 
STRIKE FOR LIBERTY.— Anonymous. 

On, on, to the just and glorious strife ! 

With your swords your freedom shielding 
Nay, resign, if it must be so, even life ; 

But die, at least, unyielding. 

On to the strife ! for 't were far more meet 
To sink with the foes who bay you, 



This Figure presents to 
the pupil another position 
of the right hand. The 
palm is downward. We 
will call this, therefore, the 
first right hand gesture, 
palm down. The hand, / 
in this position, is said to / 
be prone ; gestures of this ' 
kind are sometimes named 
inverted gestures. The 
fingers are a little farther 
apart than in the other 
position of the hand, the 
first or fore finger being 
almost straight, and the 




thumb straight and off 
from that finger. The 
hand begins to move at 
the word than, and makes 
its course according to the 
dotted line ; the stroke of 
the gesture comes upon 
the word crouch, and the 
hand falls to rest on the 
word at. This gesture is 
well suited to the expres- 
sion of scorn, contemptu- 
ous feeling, rebuke, cast- 
ing down, humbling, and 
the like. 



| Than crouch, like dogs, at) your tyrant's feet. 
And smile on the swords that slay you. 

Strike ! for the sires who left you free ! 

Strike ! for their sakes who bore you ! 
Strike ! for your homes and liberty, 

And the heaven you worship o'er you ! 



LESSON LXVIII. 
THE LIGHT OF HOME— Mrs. Hale. 

My son, thou wilt dream the world is fair, 
And thy spirit will sigh to roam, 



116 THE YOUNG SPEAKER* 

And thou must go ; — but never, when there, 
Forget the light of home. 

Though Pleasure may smile with a ray more bright, 

It dazzles to lead astray : 
Like the meteor's flash, 't will deepen the night, 

When thou treadest the lonely way. 

But the hearth of home has a constant flame, 

And pure as vestal fire ; 
'T will burn, 't will burn, forever the same, 

For nature feeds the pyre. 

The sea of Ambition is tempest-tost, 
And thy hopes may vanish like foam ; 

But when sails are shivered and rudder lost, 
Then look to the light of home. 

And there, like a star through the midnight cloud, 

Thou shalt see the beacon bright ; 
For never, till shining on thy shroud, 

Can be quench'd its holy light. 



The sun of Fame, ? t will gild the name, 
But the heart ne'er feels its ray ; 

And fashion's smiles, that rich ones claim, 
Are like beams of a wintry day : 

And how cold and dim those beams would be, 
Should life's poor wanderer come ! 

But, my son, when the world is dark to thee, 
Turn, turn to the light of home. 









LESSON LXIX. 

GOD'S CARE OVER US.— Chalmers. 

How finely diversified, and how multiplied into many 
thousand distinct exercises, is the attention of God ! His 
eye is upon every hour of my existence. His spirit is inti- 
mately present with every thought of my heart. His inspi- 
ration gives birth to every purpose within me. His hand 



Lessons for speaking. 117 

impresses a direction on every footstep of my goings. Every 
breath I inhale is drawn by an energy which God deals out 
to me. This body, which upon the slightest derangement, 
would become the prey of death, or of woeful suffering, is 
now at ease, because he at this moment is warding off from 
me a thousand dangers, and upholding the thousand move- 
ments of its complex and delicate machinery. His presiding 
influence keeps by me through the whole current of my rest- 
less and ever-changing history. When I walk by the way- 
side, he is along with me. When I enter into company, 
amidst all my forgetfulness of Him, he never forgets me. In 
the silent watches of the night, when my eyelids have closed, 
and my spirit has sunk into unconsciousness, the observant 
eye of Him who never slumbers, is upon me. I cannot fly 
from his presence. Go where I will, he leads me, and watch- 
es me, and cares for me ; and the same Being who is now 'at 
work in the remotest domains of nature and of providence, 
is also at my right hand to eke out to me every moment of 
my being, and to uphold me in the exercise of all my feelings, 
and of all my faculties. 



LESSON LXX. 

THE ATHEIST AND ACORN.— Watts. 

" Methinks the world seems oddly made, 
And every thing amiss ;" 
A dull, complaining atheist said, 
As stretched he lay beneath the shade, 
And instanced it in this : 

" Behold," quoth he, "that mighty thing, 

A pumpkin large and round, 
Is held but by a little string, 
Which upwards cannot make it spring, 

Nor bear it from the ground. 

While on this oak an acorn small, 

So disproportioned grows, 
That whosoe'er surveys this all, 
This universal casual ball, 

Its ill contrivance knows. 



118 



THE YOUNG &PEAKE&; 



My better judgment would have hung 

The pumpkin on the tree, 
And left the acorn slightly strung, 
; Mong things that on the surface sprung, 

And weak and feeble be." 

No more the caviler could say, 

No further faults descry ; 
For upward gazing, as he lay, 
An acorn, loosened from its spray, 

Fell down upon his eye. 

The wounded part with tears ran o'er, 
As punished for that sin ; 



This Figure exhib- 
its the second or mid- 
dle right hand ges- 
ture, palm down. — 
The hand, from this 
mark | sweeps swiftly- 
round to the shoulder, 
in its eourse, making 
its stroke in nearly a 
horizontal line upon 
the word fool ; it falls 
to rest with some em- 
phasis, immediately 
after the word pump- 
kin. The palm should 
be a little more in- 
ward, and the fingers 
rather closer together 
than in the first ges- 




ture of this class. In 
the example which it 
illustrates, it expresses 
contempt; but the lan- 
guage of authority and 
command is also well 
enforced by it, — as, 
" Drive that monster 
from the land" It 
may be used, likewise, 
to describe extent of 
land or water, or any 
moving spectacle, thus 
" Before him marched 
the princes and noble 
foreigners of the coun- 
tries he had conquer- 
ed." 



j Fool I had that bough a pumpkin ) bore, 
Thy whimseys would have worked no more, 
Nor skull have kept them in. 



LESSON LXXI. 



READ THE SKY— Miss Roscoe. 

Go forth when midnight winds are high, 
And ask them whence they come ; 

Who sent them raging through the sky, 
And where is their far home ! 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 119 

Ask of the tempest if its bound 

Is fix'd in Heaven's decree, 
When storm and thunders burst around 

In awful revelry. 

The winds may keep their midnight way — 

The tempest know its power ; 
But, trembling mortal, canst thou say 

Where ends thy destined hour ? 

Whence didst thou spring, and whither tend ? 

Is thine this atom world ? 
What is thy being's aim and end, 

On time's swift pinion hurl'd ? 

Thou know'st not — no ; thou may'st not know — 

But read that glorious sky, — 
Look up ! those million planets glow 

With marks of Deity ! 

Yes, trace him there — exulting trace ! 
- The soul that soars to God, 
And follows the immortal race 
Those shining stars have trod, — 

Can never falter in its faith — 

Can never bow to fears ; 
The conquest over Time and Death, 

It reads in yon bright spheres ! 



LESSON LXXII. 

ADAMS AND JEFFERSON,.— Webster. 

Adams and Jefferson are no more. On our fiftieth anni- 
versary, the great day of National Jubilee, in the very hour 
of public rejoicing, in the midst of echoing and reechoing 
voices of thanksgiving ; while their own names were on all 
tongues, they took their flight, together, to the world of spirits. 

Adams and Jefferson are no more. As human beings, 
indeed, they are no more. They are no more as in 1776, 



3tfi 



120 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

bold and fearless advocates of independence ; no more, as on 
subsequent periods, the head of the government ; no more, 
as we have recently seen them, aged and venerable objects 
of admiration and regard. 

They are no more. They are dead. But how little 
there of the great and good, which can die ! To their count: 
they yet live, and live forever. They live in all that perpet- 
uates the remembrance of men on earth ; in the recorded 
proofs of their own great actions — in the offspring of their 
intellect — in the deep engraved lines of public gratitude, and 
in the respect and homage of mankind. A superior and 
commanding human intellect, a truly great man, when 
Heaven vouchsafes so rare a gift, is not a temporary flame, 
burning bright for awhile, and then expiring, giving place to 
returning darkness. It is rather a spark of fervent heat, as 
well as radiant light, with power to enkindle the common 
mass of human mind ; so that when it glimmers, in its own 
decay, and finally goes out in death, no night follows, but it 
leaves the world all light, all on fire, from the potent con- 
tact of its own spirit. 



LESSON LXXIII. 

APPLAUSE OF WAR— Knowles. 

, What species of beings are we, that we laud to the skies 
those men whose names live in the recollection of a field of 
carnage, a sacked town, or a stormed citadel ? — That we cel- 
ebrate, at our convivial meetings, the exploits of him, who, 
in a single day, has more than trebled the ordinary havoc of 
death ? that our wives and daughters weave garlands for the 
brow, whose sweat has cost the groans of widows and of or- 
phans ? — and that our very babes are taught to twine the 
arms of innocence and purity about the knees that have been 
used to wade in blood ? — 1 say, what species of beings are 
we, that we give our praise, our admiration, and our love, to 
that which reason, religion, interest, every consideration, 
should persuade us to condemn — to avoid — to abhor ! 

I do not mean to say, that war ought never to be waged — 
there are at times, occasions, when it is expedient — necessa- 
ry — justifiable. But who celebrates with songs of triumph 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 



121 



those commotions of the elements that call the awful lightning 
into action — that hurl the inundating clouds to earth — and 
send the winds into the deep to rouse its horrors ? These 
things are necessary ; but we hail them not with shouts of 
exultation ; we do not clap our hands as they pass by us ; 
we shudder as we behold them ! What species of beings are 
we ? We turn with disgust from the sight of the common 
executioner, who, in his time, has despatched a score or two 
of victims ; and press to the heels of him, that in a single 
day, has been the executioner of thousands ! 



LESSON LXXIV. 



VENGEANCE.— Percival. 



Vengeance calls you ! quick, be ready- 
Rouse ye, in the name of God : 
Onward, onward ! strong and steady — 



This Figure pre- 
sents the third right 
hand gesture, palm 
down. The pupil 
will notice two dotted / I 
lines ; that going from j 
the star denotes an j 
upward movement — j 
which, with the pause j 
of the hand for an in- 1 
stantjformsasttsperad- ' 
ing gesture ; — these 
gestures are so named 
because they hold the 
audience in suspense, 
by the preparation 
which they make for 
the stroke ; — the other 
line denotes a down- 
ward movement ; — 




these movements are 
the course of the ges- 
ture ; previous to the 
downward movement, 
the hand is thrown 
back quickly, a few 
inches, from the point 
which it occupies in 
the picture, that it 
may make the stroke 
upon the word dash 
with the greater force; 
the hand comes to rest 
immediately after the 
word earth. This 
gesture is proper to 
the language of rep- 
rehension, denuncia- 
tion, extermination, 
anger, and the like. 



| Dash to earth ) the oppressor's rod. 
Vengeance calls ! ye brave, ye brave ! 
Rise, and spurn the name of slave. 

11 



122 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Grasp the sword ! — its edge is keen ; 

Seize the gun ! its ball is true ; 
Sweep your land from tyrants clean — 

Haste, and scour it through and through. 
Onward, onward ! — vengeance cries, 
Rush to arms— -the tyrant flies. 

Vengeance calls you ! quick, be ready — 
Think of what your sires have been : 

Onward, onward ! strong and steady — 
Drive the tyrant to his den. 

On, and let the watch-word be : 

Country, home, and liberty ! 



LESSON LXXV. 

STORY OF JOSEPH.— Sprague. 

The story of Joseph, of which these words are a part, — 
"Now, therefore, be not grieved nor angry with yourselves 
♦hat ye sold me hither ; for God did send me before you to 
preserve life," — may perhaps be considered, in some respects, 
as the master-piece even of inspiration. It is so simple, as to 
be entirely appropriate to the nursery ; and yet so beautiful, 
that the man of taste can never ponder it enough ; so tender, 
that the stoic can scarcely read it with an unmoistened eye ; 
and withal, so illustrative of the great principles of human 
nature, as to be an edifying subject of contemplation to the 
philosopher and the sage. We meet Joseph, at the point, 
perhaps, of the greatest interest — in the act of discovering 
himself to his brethren. With one breath, he let out the as- 
tounding secret that he was Joseph, whom they had sold into 
Egypt, and with the next, endeavored to soothe their troubled 
spirits, by referring to the benevolent end which God had 
accomplished by their unnatural conduct. He saw the per- 
plexity, the terror, the agitation, which had come over them, 
and his eye affected his heart ; and though he knew that they 
had deserved all, and more than all that they suffered, yet 
the heart of the injured brother rose as their apologist ; and 
he said — " Now, therefore, be not grieved, nor angry with 
yourselves, that ye sold me hither ; for God did send me be- 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 



123 



fore you to preserve life." Admirable triumph of the best 
feelings of the heart ! Noble example of a forgiving and 
generous spirit in a young man ! 



LESSON LXXVI. 

ULYSSES'S DOG.— Anonymous. 

Forgot by all his own domestic crew, 
The faithful dog alone his master knew : 



This is the first of an- 
other class of three ges- 
tures of the left hand. It 
is the first left hand ges- 
ture, palm up, off. The 
peculiarity is, that the left 
hand makes the gesture, 
though the Figure stands 
in the first right position. 
Thus we saj' the gesture 
is off. The position 
should be sir ongly made. 
In the sentence suppo- 
sed to be spoken, the 
hand begins its course 
directly after the utter- 




ance of the word un- 
housed, and makes its 
stroke in a smooth curve 
upon, the word neglected, 
retaining its position till 
the word lay has been pro- 
nounced, when it comes 
to rest. This is chief- 
ly used as a significant 
gesture. It is associated 
in the mind with things 
aside, passed by, depress- 
ed, neglected, and the 
like. When well done 
it is graceful. 



Unfed, unhoused, | neglected, on the clay, 

Like an old servant, now cashiered he lay ; ) 

Touched with resentment to ungrateful man, 

And longing to behold his ancient lord again ; 

Him when he saw he rose and crawled to meet, 

— 'Twas all he could — and fawned, and licked his feet; 

Seized with dumb joy — then, falling by his side, 

Owned his returning lord, looked up, and died ! 

Hence learn fidelity ; — with grateful mind 

Repay the courteous ; to jour friends be kind ; 

Whatever fortune on your life attend, 

The best of treasures is a faithful friend. 



124 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

LESSON LXXVII. 

THE WARRIOR'S WREATH.— Anonymous. 

Behold the wreath which decks the warrior's brow, 
Breathes it a balmy fragrance sweet ? Ah, no ! 

It rankly savors of the grave ! 
^T is red — but not with roseate hues ; 

'Tis crimsoned o'er 

With human gore ! 
'T is wet — but not with heavenly dews ; 

; Tis drenched in tears by widows, orphans shed, 
Methinks in sable weeds I see them clad, 

And mourn in vain, for husbands slain, 
Children beloved, or brothers dear, 

The fatherless 

In deep distress 
Despairing, shed the scalding tear. 

I hear, 'mid dying groans, the cannon's crash, — 
I see, 'mid smoke, the musket's horrid flash — 

Here famine walks — there carnage stalks — 
Hell in her fiery eye, she stains 

With purple blood 

The crystal flood, 
Heaven's altars and the verdant plains ! 

Scenes of domestic peace and social bliss 

Are changed to scenes of woe and wretchedness ; 

The votaries of vice increase — 
Towns sacked, whole cities wrapped in flame ! 

Just Heaven ! say, 

Is this the bay, 
Which warriors gain — is this called Fame ! 



LESSON LXXVIII. 
ADVOCATING THE REVOLUTION— Quincy. 

Be not deceived, my countrymen. Believe not these ve- 
nal hirelings, when they would cajole you by their subtleties 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 125 

into submission, or frighten you by their vaporings into com- 
pliance. When they strive to flatter you by the terms " mod- 
eration and prudence/' tell them that calmness and delibera- 
tion are to guide the judgment ; courage and intrepidity com- 
mand the action. When they endeavor to make us " perceive 
our inability to oppose our mother country/ 5 let us boldly 
answer : — " In defence of our civil and religious rights, we 
dare oppose the world ; with the God of armies on our side ! 
even the God who fought our fathers 5 battles I we fear not 
the hour of trial, though the hosts of our enemies should 
cover the field like locusts. If this be enthusiasm, we will 
live and die enthusiasts." 

Oh, my countrymen ! what will our children say, when 
they read the history of these times, should they find that we 
tamely gave away, without one noble struggle, the most in- 
valuable of earthly blessings ! As they drag the galling 
chain, will they not execrate us ? If we have any respect for 
things sacred, — any regard to the dearest treasure on earth ; 
if we have one tender sentiment for posterity ; if we would 
not be despised by the whole world, — let us, in the most open y 
solemn manner, and with determined fortitude, swear — We 
will die, if we cannot live freemen ! 

While we have equity, justice, and God on our side, tyran- 
ny, spiritual or temporal, shall never ride triumphant in a 
land inhabited by Englishmen. 



LESSON LXXIX. 

DEATH AND THE YOUTH.— Miss Landon. 

" Not yet, — the flowers are in my path ; 
The sun is in my sky ; — 
Not yet, — my heart is full of hope, 
I cannot bear to die. 

Not yet, — I never knew till now, 
How precious life could be ;— 

My heart is full of love, — Oh ! Death, 
I cannot go with thee/' 

11* 



126 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER 



But love and hope, enchanted twain, 



This Figure exhibits 
the second or middle 
left hand gesture, 
palm up, off. As 
mentioned in the de- 
scription of the first 
gesture of this class, 
the pupil must be sure 
to stand well inclined 
in the first right posi- 
tion. The course of this 
gesture begins imme- 
diately after the word 
twain, and makes its 
stroke upon the word 
passed; the movement 
is circular to about 
the shoulder, and then 
glides in a graceful 
wave to the left ; the 
hand comes to rest on 
the word by. The pu- 




pil will be careful — of 
which he has been 
instructed before — to 
keep the fingers of the 
gesturing hand a little 
] apart, the fore finger 
a little straighter than 
the rest, the little finger 
rather more curved 
than the middle and 
third* and the thumb 
up but not stiff. This 
gesture is expressive in 
denoting past time or 
events, objects at a dis- 
tance, persons and 
things behind, some- 
times mingled with 
scorn; as, " We left 
the coward slave be- 
hind" 



| Passed in their falsehood by : — ) 
Death came again, — and then he said, — 
•f I'm ready now to die." 



LESSON LXXX. 



SPEECH OF JUDAS.— Josephus. 

My fellow soldiers and companions, we shall never again 
have such an opportunity of showing our bravery in the de- 
fense of our country 3 and the contempt of all dangers as we 
have now before us ; for, upon the issue of to-morrow's com- 
bat, depends not only our liberty, but all the comforts and ad- 
vantages that attend it ; and over and above the blessings of 
such a freedom, our very religion lies at stake with it too ; 
nor can we secure the one but by preserving the other. 
Bethink yourselves well, therefore, what it is you are to con- 
tend for, and you will find it to be no less than the sum and 
substance of the greatest happiness you ever enjoyed ; that 
is to say, the peaceable possession of your ancient laws, rights, 
and discipline. Now, whether you will rather choose to per- 
ish with infamy, and involve the miserable remainder of your 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 127 

countrymen in the same ruin, or venture one generous effort 
for the redemption of yourselves and your friends, is the point 
in question. Death is the same thing to the coward that it is 
to the man of valor, and as certain to one as the other ; but 
there is a wide difference between them, in point of honor and 
everlasting fame. The gallant man, who falls in vindication 
of his religion, laws, and country, dies to be perpetuated with 
honor ; the pusillanimous coward, at his exit is consigned to 
infamy. Take these considerations into your thoughts, and 
make this use of the meditation. You have nothing to trust 
to but the providence of God, and your own concurring reso- 
lutions, and, at the worst, while we contend for victory^ we 
can never fail of glory ! 



LESSON LXXXI. 

THE BUTTERFLY BEAU.— Anonymous. 

1 5 ^r a volatile thing, with exquisite wing, 

Sprinkled o'er with the tints of the rainbow ; 
All the butterflies swarm to behold my sweet form, 

Though the grubs may all vote me a vain beau. 
I my toilet go through with rose-water dew, 

And each blossom contributes its essence ; 
Then — all fragrance and grace, not a plume out of place, 

I adorn the gay world with my presence — 
In short, you must know, 
I 'm the butterfly beau. 

At first I enchant a fair Sensitive plant, 

Then I flirt with the Pink of perfection : 
Then I seek a sweet Pea, and I whisper " for thee 

I have long felt a fond predilection :" 
A Lily I kiss, and exult in my bliss, 

But I very soon search for a new lip ; 
And I pause in my flight, to exclaim with delight, 

" O, how dearly I love you, my Tulip !" 
In short, you must know, 
I 'm the butterfly beau. 

Thus forever I rove, and the honey of love 
From each delicate blossom I pilfer,-— 



128 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

But though many I see pale and pining for me, 
I know none that are worth growing ill for : 
And though I must own, there are some that I J ve known, 

Whose external attractions are splendid ; 
On myself I must dote, for in my pretty coat, 
All the tints of the garden are blended ; — 
In short, you must know, 
I ? m the lutterjiy beau. 



LESSON LXXXII. 



VIRTUE.— Price. 



Virtue is the foundation of honor and esteem, and the 
source of all beauty, order, and happiness in nature. It is 
what confers value on all the other endowments and qualities 
of a reasonable being ; it reaches through all the periods and 
circumstances of our being. Many of the endowments and 
talents we now possess, and of which we are too apt to be 
proud, will cease entirely with the present state ; but this 
will be our ornament and dignity in every future state to 
which we may be removed. Beauty and wit will die ; learn- 
ing will vanish away, and all the arts of life be soon forgot ; 
but virtue will remain forever. This unites us to the whole 
rational creation, and fits us for conversing with any order of 
superior natures, and for a place in any part of God's works. 
Superior beings of all ranks, are bound by it no less than our- 
selves. It has the same authority in all worlds, that it has 
in this. 'Tis the law of the whole universe : it stands first 
in the estimation of the Deity ; its original is his nature ; and 
it is the very object that makes him lovely. Such is the im- 
portance of virtue. Of what consequence, therefore, is it 
that we practise it ! There is no argument, or motive, which 
is at all fitted to influence a reasonable mind, which does not 
call us to this. One virtuous disposition of soul is of more 
value than all the treasures of the world. If you are wise, 
then, study virtue, and contemn every thing that can come 
into competition with it. Remember, that nothing else de- 
serves our anxious thought, or wish. Remember, that this 
alone is honor, glory, wealth, and happiness. Secure this, 
and you secure everything ; lose this, and all is lost. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 



129 



LESSON LXXXIII. 



FRIENDS SEPARATED BY DEATH.— Montgomery. 

Friend after friend departs ; 

Who has not lost a friend ? 
There is no union here of hearts, 

That finds not here an end ; 
Were this frail world our final rest, 
Living or dying none were blest. 

Beyond the flight of time — 

Beyond the reign of death — 
There surely is some blessed clime 

WhjBre life is not a breath ; 
Nor life's affections transient fire, 
Whose sparks fly upward and expire. 

There is a world above, 

Where parting is unknown ; 
A long eternity of love, 

Formed for the good alone ; 
And Faith beholds the dying here, 
Translated to that glorious sphere. 



This Figure exhibits 
the third left hand ges- 
ture, palm up, off. The 
hand makes its course 
in a graceful curve 
from the word thus; 
the stroke comes upon 
the word star, and is 
suspended, till it falls 
to rest at the word all. 
The pupil will notice 
that the position of the 
feet is extended, near- 
ly all the weight of the 
body being supported 
on the right foot, while 




the ball of the left 
great toe but lightly 
touches the floor. It 
is a beautiful gesture, 
and employed here to 
carry the mind up, 
better than the words 
alone could, to those 
sublime objects — the 
stars of Heaven. — 
Ideas of God, eternity, 
immortality, and the 
like, may be appropri- 
ately aided by this 
gesture. 



| Thus star by star declines, 
Till all ) are past away ; 



130 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

As morning high and higher shines, 

To pure and perfect day : 
Nor sink those stars in empty night, 
But hide themselves in heaven's own light. 



LESSON LXXXIV. 



THE EXISTENCE OF GOD.— Maxcy. 

A firm belief in the existence of God, will heighten all the 
enjoyments of life, and, by conforming our hearts to his will, 
will secure the approbation of a good conscience, and inspire 
us with the hopes of a blessed immortality. Never be tempt- 
ed to disbelieve the existence of God, when every thing 
around you proclaims it in a language too plain not to be 
understood. Never cast your eyes on creation, without hav- 
ing your souls expanded with this sentiment, — " There is a 
God. 55 When you survey this globe of earth, with all its 
appendages ; when you behold it inhabited by numberless 
ranks of creatures, all moving in their proper spheres ; all 
verging to their proper ends, all animated by the same great 
source of life, all supported at the same great bounteous table ; 
when you behold, not only the earth, but the ocean, and the 
air, swarming with living creatures, all happy in their situa- 
tion ; when you behold yonder sun darting an effulgent blaze 
of glory over the heavens, garnishing mighty worlds, and 
waking ten thousand songs of praise ; when you behold un- 
numbered systems diffused through vast immensity, clothed 
in splendor, and rolling in majesty ; when you behold these 
things, your affections will rise above all the vanities of time ; 
your full souls will struggle with exstacy, and your reason, 
passions, and feelings, all united, will rush up to the skies, 
with a devout acknowledgment of the existence, power, wis- 
dom, and goodness of God. Let us behold Him, let us won- 
der, let us praise and adore. These things will make us 
happy. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING, 



131 



LESSON LXXXV. 



THE LOST BOY.— Anonymous. 

The little boy wandered away, 

Nor thought what might betide him ; 
For he loved to ramble and play, 

With his faithful dog beside him : 
The flowers were gay, the trees were green, 
A pleasanter day was never seen, — 
The birds were singing on every spray, 
As if they would flatter the boy away, 

When he M none but his dog to guide him. 



They rambled, rambled on, — 

This Figure exhibits 
the first of another class 
of single gestures. A 
gesture is said to be sin- 
gle when it is made with 
one hand only. This 
gesture may be called 
the first left hand ges- 
ture, index finger. The 
pupil will observe that 
the fore -finger is extend- 
ed, while the others are 
moderately curved in- 
ward, the thumb stand- 
ing easily o#"from them. 
In the passage illustra- 
ted, the gesture begins 
at the word and, making 
its course in a curve, as 
seen in the dotted line ; 




the stroke comes upon 
the word dog, and the 
hand falls to rest at the 
word many. The reci- 
ter is in the first right 
position during the first 
nine lines ; at the second 
word rambled, he chan- 
ges, — obeying the idea 
jof motion, — to the first 
left; at the word and he 
slides into the second 
left. The use of this 
class of gestures is, in 
noting, in expressing 
scorn, but particularly, 
in pointing out single 
objects, as in our exam- 
ple. 



The boy | and dog, together, 
In many ) a pleasant path they run, 

Nor knew, nor heeded whither ; — 
But the sun is set, and a storm seems near, 
And the poor little boy is pale with fear : 
He thought the old trees grew dark and tall, 
And as he ran, you nrght hear him call, — 

" Oh, mother, do come hither !" 

His mother is all alone, 
And sadly, sadly weeping ; 



132 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

The father to seek his son has gone, 

And how can she think of sleeping 1 
She watches the clock, she watches the skies, — 
" Oh ! where is my poor little boy ?" — she cries ; 
" Oh ! where will he pillow his little head ? — 
And where can he find a sheltered bed, 

When the storm in its wrath is sweeping ?" 

The morning is fresh and fair, 

There 's silver dew on the blossom, — 
The mother she sits in her easy chair, 
With her little boy on her bosom : — 
" Oh, mother ! dear mother ! don't weep, I pray, 
For never again will I ramble away — 
I '11 remember to ask if I wish to go," — 
And each little boy must remember it too, 
Lest his mother should grieve to lose him. 



LESSON LXXXVI. 

DEATH AND IMMORTALITY.— Anonymous. 

While enjoying the blessings of health, and the festivities 
of youth, we stand on this bridge of life, careless of the rapid 
currents of yesterdays and to-morrows ; yet reflection teaches 
that the hour is rapidly hastening, when " the cloud-capped 
towers ; the gorgeous palaces ; the solemn temples ; yea, the 
great globe itself, with all which it inherits, shall dissolve, 
and like the baseless fabric of a vision, leave not a wreck be- 
hind." We shall survive— 

" An angel's arm can 't snatch us from the grave ; 
Legions of angels can 't confine us there." 

The trump of God shall sound ; then shall He, who once 
said, " Lazarus, come forth !" descend from heaven, with a 
mighty shout. Then shall the dead hear \ then shall they 
burst the bands of death, and rise, never to sleep again. 
Then shall this mortal put on immortality, and death be swal- 
lowed up of life. We shall be present at this august resur- 
rection ! 

Soon shall we cease to see the blue canopy of day, and 
the starred curtain of the night ; to hear the rolling of the 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 133 

thunder, or see the lightning of the heavens, — scenes, which 
now impress us with awe and delight. We look round crea- 
tion, and see all living nature, below our rank, dissolving 
to dust ; never to revive. We see the flowers of spring die, 
and the leaves of autumn fade, never to resume their beauty 
and verdure. But, contemplating the soul of man, we are 
led to the language of the poet, — 

See truth, love, and mercy, in triumph descending, 
And nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom ; 

On the cold cheek of death, smiles and roses are blending, 
And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb. 



LESSON LXXXVII. 



ROLLAS SPEECH.— Sheridan. 



My brave associates ! — partners of my toil, my feelings, 
and my fame ! — Can Rolla's words add vigor to the virtuous 
energies which inspire your hearts ? — No — you have judged 
as I have, the foulness of the crafty plea by which these bold 
invaders would delude you. — Your generous spirit has com- 
pared, as mine has, the motives, which in a war like this, 
can animate their minds and ours, — They, by a strange fren- 
zy driven, fight for power, for plunder, — and extended rule: 
— We for our country, our altars, and our homes, — They 
follow an adventurer whom they fear — and obey a power 
which they hate : — We serve a monarch whom we love-^a 
God whom we adore. Whene'er they move in anger, deso- 
lation tracks their progress !— Where'er they pause in amity, 
affliction mourns their friendship !-^-They boast they come 
but to improve our state, enlarge our thoughts, and free us 
from the yoke of error ! — Yes,-— they will give enlightened 
freedom to our minds, who are themselves the slaves of passion, 
avarice and pride. — They offer us their protection-^yes, such 
protection as vultures give to lambs, covering and devouring 
them ! — -They call on us to barter all of good we have inher- 
ited and proved, for the desperate chance of something better, 
which they promise. — Be our plain answer this : The throne 
we honor is the people's choice — the laws we reverence are 
our brave fathers' legacy — the faith we follow teaches us to 

12 



134 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



live in bonds of charity with all mankind, and die with hope 
of bliss beyond the grave. — Tell your invaders this, and tell 
them too, we seek no change ; and, least of all, such change 
as they would bring us. 



LESSON LXXXVIII. 



DREAMING IN CAPTIVITY.— Mrs. Hemans. 



I dream of all things free ! 

Of a gallant, gallant bark, 
That sweeps through storm and 



This Figure exhibits 
the second right hand 
gesture, index finger. 
It stands in the first 
right position, and ges- 
ticulates with the right 
hand. It differs in these 
respects from the Fig- 
ure of this class, page 
131, but the nature of 
the gesture is the same. 
It would not be well to 
stand in the left posi- 
tion, because it is too 
near the beginning of 
the piece ; it would not 
be well to use the left 
hand, because the idea 
to be illustrated implies 
too much strength and 
swiftness. Much of 
the proprie ty of gesture 




sea 

depends on considera- 
tions like these. — The 
instant the hand begins 
its course, at the word 
like, the speaker slides 
into the second right 
position; as it shoots on 
to its stroke upon the 
word arrow, he comes 
again into the first 
right. Both motions 
are swift, but that on 
arrow like lightning. 
As the hand goes to 
the shoulder, the palm 
is inward; as it darts 
from that point it is up- 
ward; the fore finger 
and thumb are straight 
and rigid. The hand 
comes to rest on the 
word mark. 



I Like an arrow to its mark ! ) 
Of a stag that o'er the hills, 

Goes bounding in its glee ; 
Of a thousand flashing rills — 

Of all things glad and free. 

I dream of some proud bird, 
A bright eyed mountain thing ! 

In my visions I have heard 
The rustling of his wing. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 135 

I follow some wild river, 

On whose breast no sail may be ; 
Dark woods around it shiver — 

I dream of all things free ! — 

Of a happy forest child, 

With the fawns and flowers at play ; 
Of an Indian midst the wild 

With the stars to guide his way : 
Of a chief his warriors leading, 

Of an archer's greenwood tree : — 
My heart in chains is bleeding, 

And I dream of all things free. 



LESSON LXXXIX. 

RESPONSIBILITY OF THE AMERICAN CITIZEN— Webster. 

Let us cherish, fellow citizens, a deep and solemn convic- 
tion of the duties which have devolved upon us. This lovely 
land, this glorious liberty, these benign institutions, the dear 
purchase of our fathers, are ours ; ours to enjoy, ours to pre- 
serve, ours to transmit. Generations past, and generations 
to come, hold us responsible for this sacred trust. Our fa- 
thers, from behind, admonish us, with their anxious paternal 
voices ; posterity calls out to us, from the bosom of the future ; 
the world turns hither its solicitous eyes — all, all conjure us 
to act wisely, and faihfully, in the relation which we sustain. 
.We can never, indeed, pay the debt which is upon us ; but 
by virtue, by morality, by religion, by the cultivation of 
every good principle and every good habit, we may hope to 
enjoy the blessing, through our day, and to leave it unim- 
paired to our children. Let us feel deeply how much of 
what we are and of what we possess, we owe to this liberty, 
and these institutions of government. Nature has, indeed, 
given us a soil, which yields bounteously to the hands of in- 
dustry ; the mighty and fruitful ocean is before us, and the 
skies over our heads shed health and vigor. But what are 
lands, and seas, and skies, to civilized men, without society, 
without knowledge, without morals, without religious culture ; 
and how can these be enjoyed, in all their extent, and all 
their excellence, but under the protection of wise institutions 



136 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

and a free government ? Fellow citizens, there is not one of 
us, there is not one of us here present, who does not, at this . 
moment, and at every moment, experience in his own condi- 
tion, and in the condition of those most near and dear to him, 
the influence and the benefit of this liberty, and these institu- 
tions. Let us then acknowledge the blessing, let us feel it 
deeply and powerfully, let us cherish a strong affection for it, 
and resolve to maintain and perpetuate it. The blood of our 
fathers, let it not have been shed in vain ; the great hope of 
posterity, let it not be blasted. 



LESSON XC. 

GLORY OF WASHINGTON.— Brougham. 

This is the consummate glory of Washington ; — a tri- 
umphant warrior where the most sanguine had a right to de- 
spair ; a successful ruler in all the difficulties of a course 
wholly untried ; but a warrior, whose sword only left its 
sheath when the first law of our nature commanded it to be 
drawn, and a ruler who, having tasted of supreme power, 
gently and unostentatiously desired that the cup might pass 
from him, nor would suffer more to wet his lips than the 
most solemn and sacred duty to his country and his God re- 
quired ! 

To his latest breath did this great patriot maintain the no- 
ble character, of a captain the patron of peace, and a states- 
man the friend of justice. Dying, he bequeathed to his heirs 
the sword which he had worn in the war for liberty, and 
charged them " Never to take it from the scabbard but in 
self-defense, or in the defense of their country and her free- 
dom;" and commanded them, that "when it should be thus 
drawn, they should never sheath it nor ever give it up, but 
prefer falling with it in their hands to the relinquishment 
thereof, " — words, the majesty and simple eloquence of which 
are not surpassed in the oratory of Athens and Rome. 

It will be the duty of the historian and the sage in all ages 
to let no occasion pass, of commemorating this illustrious 
man ; and until time shall be no more, will a test of the pro- 
gress which our race has made in wisdom and in virtue be 
derived from the veneration paid to the immortal name of 
Washington ! 






ii 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 



137 



LESSON XCI. 



HOME. — Anonymous. 

Home ! How that blessed word thrills the ear ! 

In it what recollections blend ! 
It tells of childhood's scenes so dear, 

And speaks of many a cherished friend. 

O, through the world, where'er we roam, 
Though souls be pure and lips be kind, 

The heart with fondness turns to home — 
Still turns to those it left behind. 



This Figure exhibits 
the third left hand ges- 
ture, index finger. 
The gesture begins at 
the word the, making 
its course according to 
the dotted line, till its 
stroke comes upon the 
word bird ; it is sus- 
pended till the utter- 
ance of the word down- 
ward, with which word 
it descends and comes 
to rest at the word to. 
To effect this gesture 
properly, the speaker 
takes the first left posi- 
tion at the word turns, 
in the second stanza Jg 
and slides into the sec-L^ 
ond left at the word the, "^ 




the instant the hand 
begins to move. Some 
cases have been pointed 
out to the pupil where 
it is proper to assume 
the left position. It is 
proper in these cases, — 
to mark a new train of 
thought; where per- 
sons addressed or ob- 
jects referred to are on 
the left hand; some- 
times for the sake of 
variety ; and, certain- 
ly, as a mark of respect 
to that portion of the 
audience who sit on the 
left side of the room. 
In all these cases it may 
be proper to use the 
left gesture. 



| The bird that soars to yonder skies, 

Though nigh to heaven, still seems unblessed ; 
It leaves them, and with rapture flies 

Downward to) its own much loved nest. 

Though beauteous scenes may meet its view, 
And breezes blow from balmy groves, 

With wing untired and bosom true, 
It turns to that dear spot it loves. 

When heaven shall bid this soul depart, 
This form return to kindred earth, 
12* 



138 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

May the last throb, which swells my heart, 
Heave, where it started into birth. 

And should affection shed one tear ; 

Should friendship linger round my tomb ; 
The tribute will be doubly dear, 

When given by those of "home, sweet home." 



LESSON XCII. 

THE NURSERY TALE— Bayley. 

Oh ! did you not hear in your nursery, 

The tale that the gossips tell, 
Of two young girls that came to drink 

At a certain fairy well ? 
The words of the youngest were as sweet 

As the smile of her ruby lip, 
But the tongue of the eldest seemed to move 

As if venom were on its tip ! 

At the well a beggar accosted them, 

A sprite in a mean disguise ; — 
The eldest spoke with a scornful brow, 

The youngest with tearful eyes ; 
Cried the Fairy, "Whenever you speak, sweet girl, 

Pure gems from your lips shall fall ; 
But whenever you utter a word, proud maid, 

From your tongue shall a serpent fall." 

And have you not met with these sisters oft, 

In the haunts of the old and young ? 
The first with her pure and unsullied lip? 

The last with her serpent tongue ? 
Yes — the first is Good Nature — ^diamonds bright 

On the darkest theme she throws ; 
And the last is Slander — leaving the slime 

Of the snake wherever she goes ! 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 139 



LESSON XCIII. 






UNION— WASHINGTON.— Russell. 



If we are united, we shall have nothing to fear. Union 
is the heart, through which must circulate those streams of 
life, of health, of joy, which shall animate every member, 
which shall heal every disease, and which shall give a zest 
to every blessing. United you may sit securely, like a 
mighty giant, on your mountains, and bending a stern regard 
upon the ocean, dare the coming of the proudest foe. Policy, 
genius, nature herself invites to union. Be united ! — was 
the last injunction which trembled from the lips of our de- 
parted Washington. At the name of Washington does not a 
melancholy pleasure sadden and delight your souls ? He 
has filled the world with his and our glory. The Tartar and 
the Arab converse about him in their tents. His form al- 
ready stands in bronze and marble among the worthies of 
ancient and modern times. The fidelity of history has al- 
ready taken care of the immortality of his fame. His ex- 
ample shall animate posterity, and should faction tear, or 
invasion approach our country, his spirit shall descend from 
the Divinity, and inspire tranquility and courage. Death 
has not terminated his usefulness — he has not, he can never 
cease to do good ; even now he holds from his tomb a torch 
which cheers and enlightens the world. Be united, was his 
last injunction. Washington loved truth ! — Let us love it — 
let us seek it with a sincere and single heart. It will reward 
the search. It is great, immutable and eternal. The fugi- 
tive falsehoods of the moment shall perish ; party and pas- 
sion may write their names upon the plaister ; but this shall 
one day moulder, and Truth remain forever inscribed upon 
the marble. 



! 



LESSON XCIV. 

THE DOG.— Mrs. Sigourney. 

He will not come," said the gentle child, 

And she patted the poor dog's head, 
And she pleasantly called him and fondly smiled. 
But he heeded her not, in his anguish wild, 
Nor arose from his lowly bed. 



140 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



We come now to the 
double gestures. Double 
gestures are those which 
require the action of 
both hands at the same 
time. The Figure ex- 
hibits the first double 
gesture, palms up. The 
gesture begins at the 
word masters, and ma- 
king its course in a gen- 
tle curve, its stroke 
comes upon the word 
grave ; the hands retain 
their position till the 
word guarded has beer 
pronounced, when the} 
fall to rest. The use 




of this gesture is similar 
to that of theirs* single 
gesture on page 79 ; 
this, however, gene- 
rally implies the idea 
of space or local 
extent, while that, as a 
significant gesture, has 
no connection at all with 
such a thought. This 
comes also to the relief 
of the first single gesture, 
of either hand to prevent 
sameness ; or it may be 
used, as a terminating 
gesture, to grace a con- 
cluding sentence. 



'Twas his j master's grave where he chose to rest ; 

He guarded ) it night and day ; 
The love that glowed in his grateful breast, 
For the friend who had fed, controlled, and carest, 

Might never fade away. 

So there through the Summer's heat he lay, 

Till Autumn nights grew bleak, 
Till his eye grew dim with his hope's decay, 
And he pined, and pined, and wasted away, 

A skeleton gaunt and weak. 

Cold Winter came with an angry sway, 

And the snow lay deep and sore, 
Then his moaning grew fainter day by day, 
Till close where the broken tombstone lay, 

He fell, to rise no more. 



And when he struggled with mortal pain, 

And Death was by his side, 
With one loud cry that shook the plain, 
He called for his master, — but all in vain ;- 

Then stretched himself, and died. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 141 

LESSON XCV. 

THE BEGGAR AND HIS DOG.— Wolcot. 

Welcome, thou man of sorrows, to my door! 

A willing balm thy wounded heart shall find, 
Thou and thy guiding dog my cares implore ! 

O haste and shelter from the unfeeling wind. 

Alas ! shall misery seek my cot with sighs, 
And humbly sue for piteous alms my ear : 

Yet disappointed go with lifted eyes, 

And on my threshold leave the upbraiding tear 1 

Thou lowest for the pity I bestow : 

Bend not to me, because I mourn distress ; 

I am thy debtor — much to thee I owe : 
For learn — the greatest blessing is to bless. 

Thy sightless orbs and venerable beard — 

And pressed by weight of years that palsied head, 

Though silent, speak with tongues that must be heard, 
Nay, must be felt, if virtue be not dead. 

O let me own that heart which pants to bless, 
That nobly scorns to hide the useless store ; 

But looks around for objects of distress, 
And triumph's in a pity for the poor ! 

When heaven on man is pleased its wealth to shower, 
Ah ! what an envied bliss doth heaven bestow, 

To raise pale Merit in her hopeless hour, 

And lead Despondence from the tomb of woe. 



LESSON XCVI. 
THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS.— Miss Bowles. 

How happily, how happily the flowers die away ! 
Oh ! could we but return to earth as easily as they ! 
Just live a life of sunshine, of innocence and bloom, 
Then drop without decrepitude, or pain, into the tomb ( 



142 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



The gay and glorious creatures ! they neither "toil nor spin ;" 



This Figure 
exhibits the sec- 
ond or middle 
double gesture, 
palms vp. In 
preparing for 
the gesture, the 
speaker, at the^ 
word lo ! slides 
into the second 
right position, 
with an expres- 
sion of pleased 
surprise ; the 
hands begin the 
Course of the 
gesture at the 
word what, and 
having perform- 
ed it according 
to the dotted 
lines, its stroke 
comes upon the 
word apparel- 
led; the hands 
fall to rest after 
the word in. 
The speaker re- 




sumes the first 
right position 
on the word 
tears. This 
gesture, like the 
former of its 
class, is excel- 
lent to describe 
objects occupy- 
ing space ; as 
a landscape, 
the earth, the 
ocean ; or large 
assemblages of 
persons, and the 
like ; as, "Look 
at the men who 
have swelled 
out this vast 
procession." In 
this, as well as 
in the other ges- 
tures described, 
the pupil should 
be careful to 
keep the arms 
well from the 
body. 



Yet, lo ! J what goodly raiment they are all apparelled in ;) 
No tears are on their beauty, but dewy gems more bright 
Than ever brow of eastern queen endiademed with light. 

The young rejoicing creatures ! their pleasures never pall ; 
Nor lose in sweet contentment, because so free to all ! — 
The dew, the showers, the sunshine, the balmy, blessed air ? 
Spend nothing of their freshness, though all may freely share. 

The happy careless creatures ! of time they take no heed ; 
Nor weary of his creeping, nor tremble at his speed ; 
Nor sigh with sick impatience, and wish the light away ; 
Nor when 'tis gone, cry dolefully, " would God that it were 
day !" 

And when their lives are over, they drop away to rest, 
Unconscious of the penal doom, on holy Nature's breast ; 
No pain have they in dying — no shrinking from decay- 
On ! could we but return to earth as easily as they ! 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 143 

LESSON XCVII. 

WE MUST FIGHT.— Henry. 

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and 
that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judg- 
ing of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, 
I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the 
British ministry for the last ten years, to justify those hopes 
with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves 
and the House ? Is it that insidious smile with which our 
petition has been lately received ? Trust it not, Sir ; it will 
prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be be- 
trayed with a kiss. Let us not, I beseech you, deceive our- 
selves longer. We have done every thing that could be done, 
to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have peti- 
tioned — we have remonstrated — we have supplicated, we 
have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have im- 
plored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the 
ministry and parliament. Our petitions have been slighted ; 
our remonstrances have produced additional violence and 
insult ; our supplications have been disregarded ; and we 
have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne. 
In vain after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of 
peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for 
hope. If we wish to be free — if we mean to preserve invio- 
late those inestimable privileges for which we have been so 
long contending — if we mean not basely to abandon the 
noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and 
which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon, until the 
glorious object of our contest shall be obtained — we must 
fight! — I repeat it, Sir, we must fight ft An appeal to arms 
and to the God of Hosts is all that is left us ! 



LESSON XCVIII. 

THE BLIND MOTHER.— Anonymous. 

I saw a mother ! In her arms 
Her infant child was sleeping ; 



144 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

The mother, while the infant slept, 
Her guardian watch was keeping. 

Around its little tender form, 
Her snow white arm was flung ; 

And o'er its little infant head 
Her bending tresses hung. 

" Sleep sweetly on, my darling babe, 
My own, my only child;" 
And as she spoke the infant woke, 
And on its mother smiled. 

But, ah ! no fondly answering smile 

The mother's visage graced, 
For she was blind, and could not see 

The infant she embraced. 

But now he lisped his mother's name, 
And now the mother pressed 

Her darling, much beloved boy, 
Unto her widowed breast. 

But sudden anguish seized her mind, 
Her voice was sweetly wild ; 
"My God !" she cried, " but grant me sight, 
One hour to see my child ! 

To look upon its cherub face, 

And see its father's there ; 
But pardon if the wish be wrong, 

A widowed mother's prayer/' 

And as she spoke her anguish grew 

Still louder and more wild : 
And closer to her aching breast 

She clasped her orphan child. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING, 



145 



LESSON XCIX. 



THE HILLS.— Anonymous. 

The hills ! the everlasting hills ! 

How peerlessly they rise, 
Like earth's gigantic sentinels 

Discoursing in the skies. 



This Figure ex- 
hibits the third 
double gesture j ( 
palms up. At this£ 
mark j the speaker 
throws himself into 
the second right 
position; the course 
of the gesture 
also commences, 
and the hands as- 
cend upon the word 
hail with an em- 
phatic and rather 
rapid motion, till 
they are about on 
a level with the 
shoulders ; they 
then finish the 
course slowly in a 
curve, making the 
stroke upon thei 
word fortresses ; 
on the second word 
hail s the hands sep- 




arate a little wider, 
and, — making a 
. descending stroke 
upon the word ma- 
sonry, come to rest 
upon the wordGW. 
The objects ad- 
dressed — " the ev- 
erlasting hills" — 
are magnificent, 
and the corres- 
ponding emotion, 
occasions an ex- 
tended position of 
the feet, and a 
spirited elevation 
of the hands and 
arms. This ges- 
ture is appropriate 
to the description 
of grand and lofty 
objects, or to the 
enforcement of sub- 
lime and inspiring 
thoughts. 

I sses, 



Hail ! Nature's storm-proof/c." 
By Freedom's children trod ; 

Hail ! the invulnerable walls 
The Masonry of God !) 



Glorious ye are, when Noon's fierce beams 

Your naked summits smite, 
As o'er ye Day's great lamp hangs poised 

In cloudless chrysolite ; 
Glorious, when o'er ye sunset clouds, 

Like broidered curtains lie — 
13 



146 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Sublime, when through dim moonlight looms 
Your special majesty. 

When the dismantled pyramids 

Shall blend with desert dust, 
When every temple ' made with hands' 

Is faithless to its trust, 
Ye shall not stoop your Titan crests — 

Magnificent as now ! 
Till your Almighty architect 

In thunder bids you bow ! 



nd 
pe, 

Dm 



LESSON C. 
EULOGIUM ON Dr. FRANKLIN.— Mirabeau. 

Franklin is dead. — The genius who freed America, and 
poured a copious stream of knowledge throughout Europe 
is returned into the bosom of the Divinity. 

The sage to whom two worlds lay claim, the man for who; 
science and politics are disputing, indisputably enjoyed an 
elevated rank in human nature. 

The cabinets of princes have been long in the habit of no- 
tifying the death of those who were great, only in their funeral 
orations. Long hath the etiquette of courts proclaimed the 
mourning of hypocrisy. Nations should wear mourning for 
none but their benefactors. The representatives of nations 
should recommend to public homage, only those who have 
been the heroes of humanity. 

The Congress of America hath ordered, in the fourteen con- 
federate states, a mourning of two months for the death of Ben- 
jamin Franklin ; and America is at this moment paying that 
tribute of veneration to one of the fathers of her constitution. 

Were it not worthy of us, gentlemen, to join in the same 
religious act, to pay our share of that homage now rendered 
in the sight of the universe, at once to the rights of man, and 
to the philosopher who most contributed to extend the conquest 
of liberty over the face of the whole earth ? 

Antiquity would have raised altars to that vast and mighty 
genius, who, for the advantage of human kind, embracing 
earth and heaven in his ideas, he could tame the rage of thun- 
der and of despotism. France, enlightened and free, owes at 









LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 



147 



least some testimony of remembrance 12nd regret to one of 
the greatest men who ever served the cause of philosophy 
and liberty. 



LESSON CI. 



THE CHILD'S WISH IN JUNE.— Mrs. Gilman. 



Mother, mother, the winds are at play, 
Prithee, let me be idle to day. 

This Figure exhib- 
its the first of another 



class of double ges- 
tures. It is the first 
double gesture, palms 
down. The effect of 
any gesture depends in 
a great measure upon 
its quality, or manner 
of motion. In this,/ 
the hands begin to 
move at the word 
flowers, and make the 
course of the gesture, 
as the dotted lines 
show, in a curve, pass- 
ing at an equal rate 
slowly till they reach 
the upper line of the 
arm, upon the word 
lie, when — illustrative 
of the word languidly 




-they 
stroke, 



make the 
by dropping, 



as it were, through the 
remaining part of the 
curve, upon the sylla- 
ble Ian, and, with a 
very slight suspension, 
fall lifelessly to rest 
upon the other sylla- 
bles of that word. The 
stroke of gesture is to 
the eye, what emphasis 
of voice is to the ear, — 
both should come ex- 
actly upon the accent- 
ed syllable of the em- 
phatic word. This 
gesture may be applied 
to nearly the same 
ideas as those on page 
115 ; it is used instead 
of that to prevent repe- 
tition, and, indepen- 
dently, to mark a 
stronger sentiment, or 
a more fervid emotion. 



Look, dear mother, the j flowers all lie 
Languidly) under the bright blue sky. 
See, how slowly the streamlet glides; 
Look, how the violet roguishly hides ; 
Even the butterfly rests on the rose, 
And scarcely sips the sweets as he goes. 

Poor Tray is asleep in the noonday sun, 
And the flies go about him, one by one ; 
And Pussy sits near, with a sleepy grace, 
Without ever thinking of washing her face. 

There flies a bird to a neighboring tree, 
But very lazily flieth he, 



148 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

And he sits and twitters a gentle note, 
And scarcely ruffles his little throat. 

You bid me be busy ; but mother, hear 
How the humdrum grasshopper soundeth near ; 
And the soft west wind is so light in its play, 
It scarcely moves a leaf on the spray. 

I wish, oh, I wish I was yonder cloud 
That sails about with its misty shroud ; 
Books and work I no more should see, 
And I'd come and float dear mother o'er thee. 



LESSON CII. 
THE PAUPER'S DEATH-BED.— Mrs. Southey. 

Tread softly — bow the head — 
In reverent silence bow — 
No passing bell doth toll — • 
Yet an immortal soul 
Is passing now. 

Stranger I however great, 
With lowly reverence bow ; 
There 's one in that poor shed — 
One by that paltry bed — 
Greater than thou. 

Beneath that beggar's roof, 
Lo ! Death doth keep his state : 
Enter — no crowds attend — 
Enter — no guards defend 
This palace gate. 

That pavement, damp and cold, 
No smiling courtiers tread ; 
One silent woman stands, 
Lifting with meager hands 
A dying head. 

No mingling voices sound— 
An infant wail alone $ 






LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 



149 



A sob suppressed — again 
That short deep gasp, and then 
The parting groan. 

Oh ! change — oh ! wondrous change- 
Burst are the prison bars — 
This moment there, so low, 
So agonized, and now 
Beyond the stars. 

Oh ! change — stupendous change ! 
There lies the soulless clod : 
The Sun eternal breaks — 
The new Immortal wakes — 
Wakes with his God, 



LESSON CIII. 

MAN IMMORTAL.— Montgomery. 

Man, to this narrow sphere confined, 
Dies when he but begins to live. 
Oh ! if there be no world on high 

This Figure ex- 
hibits the second 
double gesture, 
palms down. The 
speaker, at the 
word oh ! in the' 
third line, — his 
eyes directed to 
heaven, — slides 
into the second 
right position. He 
performs the first 
part of the course, 
on the phrase — 
f To yield his 
powers;" it is 
done in an up- 
ward curved mo- 
tion, crossing 
near the chin ; 
the hands strike 
swiftly out, in a 
horizontal line, 

| To yield his powers unfettered scope : 
If man ) be only born to die, 
13* 




completing the 
course ; the stroke 
comes upon the 
syllable fet, the 
speaker at the 
same instant re- 
suming the first 
right position ; 
the hands come 
to rest after the 
word man. This 
gesture is suitable 
to expressions in 
which the idea of 
speed and extent 
are combined, as 
in the example. 
It discards, re- 
pels with vio- 
lence, and the 
like; as, "We 
swept them from 
the shore !" 



150 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Whence this inheritance of hope ? 
Wherefore to him alone were lent 
Riches that never can be spent ? 
Enough, not more, to all the rest, 
For life and happiness, was given ; 
To man, mysteriously unblest, 
Too much for any state but heaven. 

It is not thus ; — it cannot be 
That one so gloriously endowed 
With views that reach eternity, 
Should shine and vanish like a cloud : 
Is there a God ? All nature shows 
There is, — and yet no mortal knows : 
The mind that could this truth conceive, 
Which brute sensation never taught, 
No longer to the dust would cleave, 
But grow immortal with the thought. 



LESSON CIV. 
THE QUEEN OF FRANCE.— Burke. 

It is now sixteen years since I saw the Queen of Franci 
then the dauphiness, at Versailles ; and surely never lighte 
on this orb, which she hardly seemed to touch, a more delight- 
ful vision. I saw her just above the horizon, decorating and 
cheering the elevated sphere she just began to move in, glit- 
tering like the morning star, full of life, and splendor, and 
joy. Oh ! what a revolution ! and what a heart must I have, 
to contemplate without emotion that elevation and that fall ! 

Little did I dream that, when she added titles of veneration 
to those of enthusiastic, distant, respectful love, that she could 
ever be obliged to carry the sharp antidote against disgrace 
concealed in that bosom ; little did I dream that I should live 
to see such disasters heaped upon her in a nation of gallant 
men, in a nation of men of honor and of cavaliers. I thought 
ten thousand swords must have leaped from their scabbards 
to avenge even a look that threatened her with insult. But 
the age of chivalry has gone. That of sophisters, econ- 
omists, and calculators, has succeeded ; and the glory of 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 151 

Europe is extinguished for ever. Never, never more shall 
we behold that generous loyalty to rank and sex, that proud 
submission, that dignified obedience, that subordination of the 
heart, which kept alive, even in servitude itself, the spirit of 
an exalted freedom. 

The unbought grace of life, the cheap defense of nations, 
the nurse of manly sentiment and heroic enterprise, is 
gone ! It is gone, that sensibility of principle, that chastity 
of honor, which felt a stain like a wound, which inspired 
courage, while it mitigated ferocity, which ennobled whatever 
it touched, and under which vice itself lost half its evil, by 
losing all its grossness. 



LESSON CV. 

OUR FLAG.— Percival. 

Lift, lift the eagle banner high, 

Our guide to fame ; 
On ocean's breezes bid it fly 
Like meteors wafting through the sky 

Their pomp and flame ; 
Till wide on every sea unfurled, 
It tell to an admiring world 

Our name. 

O ! proudly burns its beacon light 

On victory's path ; 
Through freedom's dawn, through danger's night, 
Onward, still onward, rolling bright, 

It swept in wrath ; 
Still lightning-like to him who dares 
Confront the terrors of our stars, 

Its scath. 

Still heavenward mounts the generous flame, 

And never tires ; 
Does Envy dare insult our name, 
Or lurking Falsehood brand with shame, 

Our buried sires ? 
The armed Colossus thunders by, 



152 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 






This Figure exhib- 
its the third double \ 
gesture, palms down. \ 
In the performance of! 
this gesture, there is : 
an upward and a : 
downward course, 
and a second stroke. 
The hands ascend 
upon the word das- 
tard, making a smart 
emphasis upon the 
word lie; at this 
point, as represented 
in the picture, it is a 
suspending gesture; 
a preparation is made 
for the concluding 
movement, by throw- 
ing the hands a littler 
back upon the sylla- 
ble ex — they descend 

Wide wave our stripes- 
Expires. ) 




with a swift mo- 
: : Hon and considerable 
\ force, upon the sylla- 
ible pires, and thus 
f make a terminating 
emphatic gesture. In 
the management of a 
good speaker, this is 
an admirable gesture : 
it might be applied 
with great effect up- 
on that memorable 
phrase of Patrick 
Henry, as related by 
Mr. Wirt — " Give me 
liberty, or give me 
death." Admiration, 
surprise, amazement, 
and the like, are well 
expressed by the sus- 
pending part of this 
gesture. 

the | dastard lie 



LESSON CVI. 



THE BLIND BOY.— Hawkes. 



" Dear Mary," said the poor blind boy, 
That little bird sings very long ; 
Say, can you see him in his joy, 
And is he pretty as his song ?" 

"Yes, Edward, yes," replied the maid; 
" I see the bird on yonder tree." 
The poor boy sighed, and gently said, 
" Sister. I wish that I could see. 



The flowers, you say, are very fair, 

And bright green leaves are on the trees, 

And pretty birds are singing there — 
How beautiful for one who sees ! 

Yet I the fragrant flower can smell, 
And I can feel the green leaf's shade, 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 153 

And I can hear the notes that swell 

From these dear birds that God has made. 

So, sister, God to me is kind, 

Though sight, alas ! he has not given ; 

But tell me, are there any blind 

Among the children up in Heaven ?" 

" No, dearest Edward ; there all see ; 

But why ask me a thing so odd ?" 
" Oh, Mary ! He's so kind to me, 

I thought I'd like to look at God." 

Ere long, disease his hand had laid 
On that dear boy, so meek and mild ; 

His widowed mother wept and prayed 

That God would spare her sightless child. 

He felt her warm tears on his face, 

And said, " Oh, never weep for me ; 
I'm going to a bright, bright place, 

Where, Mary says, I God shall see : 

And you'll come there — dear Mary too ; 

But, mother, when you get up there, 
Tell Edward, mother, that 'tis you- — 

You know I never saw you here." 

He spake no more, but sweetly smiled, 

Until the final blow was given, 
When God took up that poor blind child, 

And opened first his eyes in Heaven. 



LESSON CVII. 
THINK ON THE POOR.— Anonymous. 

As you sit in warm circles, secure from the tempest, 
Nor feel the keen storm, as it drifts on the moor; 

Yet shut not your door 'gainst the wandering stranger, 
But learn from your blessings to pity the poor. 



154 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



When the cold northern blast blows both chilly and rudely, 

And the rain patters hard at your windows and door ; 
As you hear the blast howl, look around on your comforts 



This Figure represents 
a boy with his hand upon 
his heart. In the expres- . 
sion to which the gesture / 
is applied, the course begins: 
at the word heave, thej 
stroke comes upon the word; 
sigh, and the hand falls to\ 
rest upon the word poor. 
The pressure of the hand 
upon the breast, is the 
stroke. Boys, when they 
first attempt to make this 
gesture, are apt to press the 
elbow down to the side ; 




this is inelegant ; the hand 
should be brought up in a 
graceful curve and the arm 
rounded easily out. The 
hand will be properly 
placed if the middle of the 
fingers is directly on the 
spot where the beating of 
the heart is felt. This 
gesture is appropriate to 
expressions of pity, com- 
passion, appeals to heaven , 
and the personal feelings 
of the speaker. 



And [heave a kind sigh for the indigent poor. ) 



Oft lift up the latch of chill poverty's dwelling, 
Explore the sad mansion where care sits obscure ; 

Behold ! tears of want wash the withering bosom, 
Then think of your plenty, and give to the poor. 

The winter presents a sad gloomy aspect — 
In clusters the icicles hang at the door ; 

Red berries adorn the brown thorn for the songster, 
But you must relieve the hard fate of the poor. 

Remember that soon we must sink in that dwelling, 

Where riches no sort of distinction procure ; 
That leveler, Death, and the grave, our last mansion, 
Must mingle the dust of the rich and the poor. 



LESSON CVIII. 

INFLUENCE OF SUPERIOR MINDS— Sprague. 

It belongs to cultivated men to construct, and put in motion, 
and direct the complex machinery of civil society. Who 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 155 

originated these free institutions, — the arteries through which 
the life-blood of our country's prosperity circulates ? Who 
built and rocked the cradle of American liberty, and guarded 
the infant angel, until she walked forth in the vigor of a glo- 
rious maturity ? Whom do we welcome to the helm of state, 
when the storm of faction beats, or dark clouds hang about 
the heavens ? Who speak, trumpet-tongued, to a nation's 
ear, in behalf of a nation's rights ? Who hold the scales of 
equity, measuring out a portion both to the just and the un- 
just ? Are they men who have been nursed in the lap of 
ignorance, or are they not rather your great and cultivated 
minds — your Franklins and Madisons, and Adamses and 
your Kents, and Spencers, and Storys ? And then again, 
who framed that social system, — if system it could be called, 
— which exploded in the horrors of the French revolution ; 
sporting with time-hallowed associations, and unsealing all 
the fountains of blood ? Think you that ignorance was the 
presiding genius in that war of elements ? Oh, no ; the 
master-spirits had many of them been known as standard 
bearers in the empire of letters ; they partook at once of the 
strength of the angel, and the depravity of the fiend. And 
as it is in these opposite cases that I have mentioned, so it is 
always and every where, — men with cultivated minds will 
ultimately have the power, whether they use it in the spirit 
of a lofty patriotism, or pervert it to do homage to faction, 
and tear society in pieces. 



LESSON CIX. 
THE ORPHAN.— Anonymous.. 

My father and mother are dead, 
No friend or relation I have ; 

And now the cold earth is their bed, 
And daisies grow over their grave. 

I cast my eyes into the tomb, 

The sight made me bitterly cry ; 

I said, and is this the dark room 

Where my father and mother must lie ! 

I cast my eyes round me again, 
In hopes some protector to see; 



156 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



Alas ! but the search was in vain, 
For none had compassion on me. 

I cast my eyes up to the sky, 

I groaned though I said not a word ; 

Yet God was not deaf to my cry — 
The friend of the fatherless heard. 

O, yes — and he graciously smiled, 
And he bid me on him to depend ; 

He whispered — fear not, little child, 
For I am thy father and friend. 



LESSON CX. 
SAUL, BEFORE HIS LAST BATTLE.— Byron. 
Warriors and Chiefs ! should the shaft or the sword 



This Figure exhibits a 
gesture very similar to 
the preceding one. The . 
t humb, instead of the open/ 
hand, is placed at the; 
heart. The course of the \ 
gesture begins at, and the 
stroke comes upon, the 
word pierce ; the hand is 
thrown off, with some 
emphasis, from the breast, 
on the word, heed, and 
comes to rest after the 
word corse. As the hand f 




comes up, the fingers close 
upon the palm, and 
the thnmb being quite 
straight, strikes with its 
end, upon the breast. 
This gesture is, generally, 
applied to denote dark 
feeling, guilt, remorse, 
troubled conscience, and 
the like ; as," Conscience! 
'twas that made Ccesar 
pause upon the brink of , 
the Rubicon." 



| Pierce me in leading the hosts of the Lord, 
Heed not the corse,) though a king's, in your path ; 
Bury your steel in the bosom of Gath ! 

Thou who art bearing my buckler and bow, 
Should the soldiers of Saul look away from the foe, 
Stretch me that moment in blood at thy feet ! 
Mine be the doom which they dared not to meet ! 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 157 

Farewell to others, but never we part, 
Heir to my royalty, son of my heart ! 
Bright is the diadem, boundless the sway, 
Or kindly the death which awaits us to-day. 



LESSON CXI. 
SUMMER.— Hunt. 

The months we used to read of 

Have come to us again, 
With sunniness and sunniness 

And rare delights of rain ; 
The lark is up, and says aloud, 

East and west I see no cloud. 

The lanes are full of roses, 

The fields are grassy deep ; 
The leafiness and floweriness 

Make one abundant heap ; 
The balmy, blossom-breathing airs, 

Smell of future plums and pears. 

The sunshine at our waking, 

Is still found smiling by ; 
With beamingness and earnestness, 

Like some beloved eye ; 
And all the day it seems to take 

Delight in being wide awake. 

The lasses in the gardens 

Show forth their heads of hair, 

With rosiness and lightsomeness 
A chasing here and there ; 

And then they'll hear the birds, and stand f 
And shade their eyes with lifted hand. 

And then again they're off there, 

As if their lovers came, 
With giddiness and gladsomeness 

Like doves but newly tame. 
Ah ! light your cheeks at nature, do, 

And draw the whole world after you. 
14 



158 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



LESSON CXII. 

THE LIFE-BOAT.— Mrs. Osgood. 

The thunder-spirits sound on high 

The storm's wild tocsin, loud and deep, 

And winds and waves, with maddening cry, 
Fierce at the summons leap. 

Wide flashed through heaven the lightning's wing ; 

The blinding rain did swiftly pour ; 
And the noble ship, a helpless thing, 

Lay tossing towards the shore ! 

Then shrieked the crew, " In mercy save !" 

And rushing headlong to her side, 
They launch the life-boat on the wave, 

And tempt the fearful tide. 

And there was He, above the storm, 

Who smiled upon the shallop light, 
And sent an angel's viewless form 

To guide the bark aright ! 



This Figure exhibits a 
gesture made by bring- 
ing both hands to the 
heart. When properly- 
applied and well exe- 
cuted, it is expressive 
and beautiful. In the 
passage selected to show 
its use, the course of the 
gesture begins at the 
word that ; the stroke — 
made by the pressure of 
the hands — comes upon 
the word soul; the hands 
spring from the breast 
with an emphatic, cir 
cular motion upon the 
words quail not, and 




then falls to rest upon 
the word life-boat. In 
performing this gesture, 
both hands ascend at the 
, same time, the left hand 
'.coming under upon the 
: breast, with the fingers 
/of the right pressing 
•'upon it. The use of it 
is to express intense 
emotion, solemn asseve- 
ration, appeals to the 
Deity, and the like. It 
should never occur more 
than once in any piece 
which a boy might be 
called upon to recite. 



Boy! in the storms | that shake the soul, 
Quail not ! there's still a life)-boat nigh ; 

And there may Angel-Faith's control, 
Grief's wildest waves defy ! 






LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 159 

LESSON CXIIL 

THE PERFECT SPEAKER— Anonymous. 

Imagine to yourselves a Demosthenes addressing the most 
illustrious assembly in the world, upon a point whereon the 
fate of the most illustrious of nations depended. — How awful 
such a meeting ! How vast the subject ! Is man possessed 
of talents adequate to the great occasion 1 xAdequate — yes, 
superior. By the power of his eloquence, the augustness of 
the assembly is lost in Ihe dignity of the orator ; and the 
importance of the subject for a while superseded, by the 
admiration of his talents. — With what strength of argu- 
ment, with what powers of the fancy, with what emotions 
of the heart, does he assault and subjugate the whole man, 
and, at once, captivate his reason, his imagination, and his 
passions ! — To effect this, must be the utmost effort of 
the most improved state of human nature. — Not a faculty 
that he possesses is here unemployed ; not a faculty that he 
possesses but is here exerted to its highest pitch. All his 
internal powers are at work ; all his external testify their 
energies. Within, the memory, the fancy, the judgment, 
the passions, are all busy ; without, every muscle, every 
nerve, is exerted ; not a feature, not a limb, but speaks. 
The organs of the body, attuned to the exertions of the mind, 
through the kindred organs of the hearers, instantaneously 
as it were with an electrical spirit, vibrate those energies 
from soul to soul. — Notwithstanding the diversity of minds 
in such a multitude, by the lightning of eloquence, they are 
melted into one mass — the whole assembly actuated in one 
and the same way, become as it were, but one man, and have 
but one voice. The universal cry is — "Let us march against 
Philip — let us fight for our liberties — let us conquer — or die/' 



LESSON CXIV. 

THE PIRATE'S SONG.— Anonymous. 

Blow on ! blow on ! we love the howling 
Of winds that waft us o'er the sea ; 



160 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



As fearless as the wolf that 's prowling 
Upon our native hills are we. 



This Figure exhibits the 
suspending part of an em- 
phatic significant gesture. 
The hand begins to move 
at the word the, and reaches 
the position shown in the 
picture — with some empha- 
sis — upon the word terror ; 
the stroke is made by pro- 
jecting the arm at full 
length, upon the word fly ; 
the hand retaining its in- 
verted position, with the 
thumb and fingers straight, 
and considerably apart / 




the gesture terminates im- 
mediately after the word 
before. The purpose for 
which the speaker designs 
any gesture being comple- 
ted, the arm should drop 
instantly to the side — any 
suspending after this, only 
weakens the effect. To re- 
pulse, to discard with in- 
dignation, and the like ; or 
to express the idea of speed 
and force, is the office of 
this gesture. 



| The doomed in terror fly before) us, 

We've nailed the black flag to the mast ! 

It there shall float triumphant o'er us, 
We will defend it to the last ! 

Roll on ! roll on ! we love the motion 

Of waves that bear us on our way ; 
No swifter bark e'er sailed the ocean, 

No skiff more lightly skims the bay. 
The lightning from the sky is flashing ! 

The thunder's distant roar we hear, 
But while o'er seas we thus are dashing, 

We, waves, nor winds, nor lightning's fear ! 






LESSON CXV. 
THE IMPRISONED EAGLE.— Anon ymous* 

Oh ! 'twas a mean and dastard thing, 
To bind the mountain-eagle's wing : 
A tyrant's forge the fetters framed, 
And tyranny the deed proclaimed. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING, 161 

My spirit sickens when I see 
That noble bird in his misery. 

Break, break, the kingly eagle's chain, 

And give him to the skies again. 

His powerful wing that nature gave, 
Sublime o'er mountain tops to wave, 
Far sailing round the loftiest peak, 
The home of princely sires to seek ; 
That powerful wing now drooping low, 
Folds round him like a robe of woe. 

O break the kingly eagle's chain, 

And give him to the skies again. 

Once he loved on the sun to gaze, 
But now he shuns the dazzling blaze ; 
His eye is dimmed, a feebler light 
Suits best the captive eagle's sight. 
Oh ! were he free, his glance would dare 
The vivid lightning's fervid glare. 

Break, break, the kingly eagle's chain, 

And give him to the skies again. 

'Twas the thought of a dastard mind, 
The eagle's free-born wing to bind ; 
Freeman, if freedom's honored name, 
The homage of thy heart can claim, 
Unclose the prisoner's grated door, 
And let him far and freely soar. 

Break, break, the kingly eagle's chain, 

And give him to the skies again. 



LESSON CXVI, 

THE SAILOR BOY'S DREAM.— Anonymous. 

On the midnight ocean sleeping the youthful sailor lies, 
While scenes of happy childhood in his dreaming soul arise ; 
Still chiming seems the Sabbath bell, as sweetly as of yore, 
And once again he roams the fields, and sees the cottage door. 
In her arms his mother folds him, with affection's fond caress, 
His gentle bright-eyed sisters, too, in rapture round him press; 

14* 



162 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



His aged father meets him, and his young companions come, 
To welcome him once more to share the dear delights of home. 



This Fignre repre- / 
sents a boy in the atti- / 
tude of listening. The { 
hand comes rapidly up • 
upon the word hark, \ 
performing at the same * 
time the principal 
stroke of the gesture ; 
then there is a return- 
ing downward course, 
making an emphasis 
upon the word shriek ; 
the hand comes to rest 




upon the word dispels, 
In this action, the ear 
is turned towards the 
point whence the 
sound comes ; the eyes 
are bent on vacancy, 
as it is called — seem- 
ing to look on nothing 
— and the body leans 
forward, more or less, 
according to the ear- 
nestness of the atten- 
tion, 



| Hark ! what wild shriek dispels) his dream ? whence sound 
those cries of wo ? 

With the storm loud thunders mingle — o'er the ship the bil- 
lows flow ; 

From his hammock starts the sleeper ! he rushes to the deck ! 

The vessel's sails with lightning blaze ! she sinks a burning 
wreck ! 

To a mast the winds have riven the sailor madly clings ; 

His fearful parting knell of death the tempest loudly rings ; 

All is dark and drear around — not a star beams o'er the wave, 

As ocean spirits bear him to the sailor's shroudless grave ! 

Oh ! never at the cottage hearth shall he again be seen, 

Nor meet his playmates merrily to sport upon the green: 

In vain for him the birds shall sing — the hawthorn deck the 
tree; 

For slumb'ring on the sand he lies beneath the swelling sea. 

Where now are happy childhood's scenes ? oh, where the 
chiming bell ? 

The fields o'er which he used to stray, the cot he loved so well ? 

For ever lost ! yet still he finds a home of peace and joy, 

Where neither stormy wind nor wave can wreck the sailor 
boy. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 163 

LESSON CXVII. 
THE WARRIOR FATHER— Mrs. Hale. 

Now fly, as flies the rushing wind — 

Urge, urge thy lagging steed ! 
The savage yell is fierce behind, 

And life is on thy speed. 

And from those dear ones make thy choice ; 

The group he wildly eyed, 
When " father I" burst from every voice, 

And " child !" his heart replied. 

Ambition goads the conqueror on, 

Hate points the murderer's brand ; 
But love and duty, these alone 

Can nerve the good man's hand. 

The hero may resign the field, 

The coward murderer flee ; 
He cannot fear — he will not yield, 

That strikes, sweet love, for thee. 

They come, they come — he heeds no cry, 

Save the soft child-like wail ; 
" Oh father, save !" " My children, fly !" 

Were mingled on the gale. 

And firmer still he drew his breath, 

And sterner flashed his eye, 
As fast he hurls the leaden death, 

Still shouting, "Children, fly!" 

No shadow on his brow appeared, 

Nor tremor shook his frame, 
Save when at intervals he heard 

Some trembler lisp his name, 

In vain the foe, those fiends unchained, 

Like famished tigers chafe ; 
The sheltering roof is neared, is gained, 

All, all the dear ones safe ! 



164 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



LESSON CXVIII. 



MARY'S GRAVE.— Roscoe. 



The summer winds sing lullaby 

O'er Mary's little grave ; 
And the summer flowers spring tenderly, 

O'er her their buds to wave. 
For oh ! her life was short and sweet 
As the flowers which blossom at her feet. 



A little while the beauteous gem 
Bloomed on the parent's breast ; 

Ah ! then it withered on the stem, 
And sought a deeper rest ; 

And we laid on her gentle frame the sod, 



This Figure exhibits 
another example of the 
index finger. The course 
of the gesture begins at 
the word the ; the stroke 
comes upon the word 
spirit, the hand grad- 
ually ascending till it 
pauses upon the word 
God; it then descends 
in a gentle curve, and 
comes to rest upon the 




word loved. It may be 
used to describe any 
thing rising in a perpen- 
dicular direction ; as, an 
arrow, the sky -lark, a 
rocket, and the like ; it 
is appropriate also, in 
allusion to the " heav- 
ens above," or to the 
great Being who made 
them. 



But we know that | the spirit was fled to God. 

The birds she loved) so well to hear, 

Her parting requiem sing, 
And her memory lives in the silent tear 

Which the heart to the eye will bring; 
For her kind little feelings will ne'er be forgot 
By those who have mourned her early lot. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 165 

LESSON CXIX. 

GOD GOVERNS IN THE AFFAIRS OF MEN.— Franklin. 

Mr. President. — The small progress we have made after 
four or five weeks close attendance and continual reasonings 
with each other — our different sentiments on almost every ques- 
tion, several of the last producing as many noes, as ayes — is, 
methinks, a melancholy proof of the imperfection of the hu- 
man understanding. We indeed seem to feel our own want 
of political wisdom, since we have been running about in 
search of it. We have gone back to ancient history for 
models of government, and examined the different forms of 
those republics which, having been formed with the seeds of 
their own dissolution, now no longer exist. And we have 
viewed modern states all round Europe, but find none of 
their constitutions suitable to our circumstances. 

In this situation of this Assembly, groping as it were in 
the dark to find political truth, and scarce able to distinguish 
it when presented to us, how has it happened, Sir, that we 
have not hitherto once thought of humbly applying to the 
Father of lights, to illuminate our understandings ? In the 
beginning of the contest with great Britain, when we were 
sensible of danger, we had daily prayer in this room for the 
divine protection. Our prayers, Sir, were heard, and they 
were graciously answered. All of us who were engaged in 
the struggle must have observed frequent instances of a 
superintending Providence in our favor. To that kind prov- 
idence we owe this happy opportunity of consulting in peace 
on the means of establishing our future national felicity. 
And have we now forgotten that powerful friend ? or do we 
imagine that we no longe'r need his assistance ? I have 
lived, Sir, along time, and the longer I live, the more con- 
vincing proofs I see of this truth — that God governs in the 
affairs of men. And if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground 
without his notice, is it probable that an empire can rise 
without his aid ? We have been assured, Sir, in the sacred 
writings, that " except the Lord build the house they labor 
in vain that build it." I firmly believe this ; and I also 
believe that without his concurring aid we shall succeed in 
this political building no better than the builders of Babel. 
We shall be divided by our little partial local interests ; 
our projects will be confounded ; and we ourselves shall 



166 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



become a reproach and by- word down to future ages. And 
what is worse, mankind may hereafter, from this unfortunate 
instance, despair of establishing governments by human 
wisdom, and leave it to chance, war, and conquest. 

I therefore beg leave to move — that henceforth prayers 
imploring the assistance of Heaven, and its blessings on our 
deliberations, be held in this Assembly every morning before 
we proceed to business, and that one or more of the clergy 
of this city be requested to officiate in that service. 



LESSON CXX. 
THE NOBLE SAILOR.— Rindge. 

It was a fearful night, 
The strong flame sped 
From street to street, from spire to spire, 
And on their treasures tread ; 



Hark ! 'tis the mother's cry, 
High o'er the tumult wild, 
As rushing toward her flame wrapt home, 



This Figure exhib- 
its an attitude expres- 
sive of anguish of 
mind. The pupil will 
notice that the posi- / 
tion of the feet is ex-! 
tended, the eyes rais-\ 
ed to heaven, and the": 
hands clasped with\ 
energy. The ringers \ 
of one hand at the 
second joint are laid 
between the thumb 
and forefinger of the 
other, and then the 
fingers of both hands 
are pressed tightly 
down. This arrange- 
ment of the hands is 
sometimes colled fold- 




ed, to distinguish it 

from that in which the 

fingers are all inserted 

\ between each other. 

\In the passage to 
• which the gesture is 
here applied, the 
course begins at the 

/word shrieked, the 
/ hands come together, 
making the stroke up- 
on the word child, and 
fall to rest upon the 
word wanderer. Sud* 
den impulses of dis- 
tress, agony, despair^ 
and the like, find^a 
natural expression in 
this action. 



She | shrieks— " my child ! my child ! 

A wanderer) from the sea, 
A stranger marked her woe ; 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 167 

And in his bosom woke, 
The sympathetic glow. 

Swift up the burning stairs 
With daring feet he flew, 
While sable clouds of stifling smoke, 
Concealed him from the view. 

Fast fell the burning beam 
Across the dangerous road, 
Till the far chamber where he groped 
Like fiery oven glowed. 

But what a pealing shout 
When from the wreck he came, 
And in his arms a smiling babe 
Still toying with the flame. 

The mother's raptured tears 
Forth like a torrent sped, 
But ere the throng could learn his name, 
That noble tar had fled. 

Not for the praise of man, 
Did he this deed of love, 
But on the bright unfading page 
'Tis registered above. 



LESSON CXXI. 
THE BOY'S RETURN TO HIS HOME.— Waterman. 

When shall I leave these mountains rude, 

Rearing their giant dome, 
When shall I leave this deepening wood, 

When shall I be at home ; 
Bear me ye winds on tireless wing, 

Bear me to love and joy, 
Unto the scenes of youthful spring, 

Bear back this wandering boy. 



168 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



But I am near them, nearer still, 

Here are my haunts of play, 
Here is the rock, the towering hill, 

Washed by the foaming spray. 
There is the cliff, the shadowing cliff, 

The streamlet round its base ; 
Oft I have manned my little skiff 

Over that watery space. 

These are my rambling scenes of play, 

Where I have loved to roam, 
But bear me, bear me on, I pray, 

Back to my mother's home ; 
Bear me upon your wings, O wind ! 

Back to my home of joy, 
Scenes with my mother's memory shrin'd 

That she may bless her boy. 



This Figure exhibits 
a reverential or devo- 
tional posture. As 
here adapted it is to 
express affectionate 
and delighted grati- 
tude. The hands in 
this position are said 
to be applied. The 
fingers and thumbs are 
laid to ea^h other and 
the hands pressed to- 
gether. The arms are 
not kept down, but 
somewhat raised and 
rounded outward. So 
intheFig.onpage 165. 
In the passage which 
this gesture illustrates, 




the course begins im- 
mediately after the 
word air; the hands 
come together upon 
\ the word thrice, ma- 
sking the stroke, and 
jare kept in this posi- 
tion till the speaker 
/ pronounces the word j 
soon, when they part 
in an outward curve, 
and fall to rest on the 
word feet. Addresses 
to the Deity, particu- 
larly if imbued with \ 
love and thankfulness j 
for his mercy and good- 
ness, are appropriate 
to this form of gesture. 



Bless thee ! oh bless thee, wandering air ! 

| Thrice blessed my heavenly guide ! 
Soon will my weary feet) be where 

My heart long since has hied. 



LESSON CXXII. 

IMPORTANCE OF ORATORY.— Knowles. 

The principal means of communicating our ideas are two 
-speech and writing. The former is the parent of the lat- 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 169 

ter ; it is the more important, and its highest efforts are called 
— Oratory. 

If we consider the very early period at which we begin 
to exercise the faculty of speech, and the frequency with 
which we exercise it, it must be a subject of surprise that 
so few excel in Oratory. In any enlightened community, 
you will find numbers who are highly skilled in some par- 
ticular art or science, to the study of which they did not 
apply themselves, till they had almost arrived at the stage of 
manhood. Yet, with regard to the powers of speech — those 
powers which the very second year of our existence gene- 
rally calls into action, the exercise of which goes on at our 
sports, our studies, our walks, our very meals ; and which 
is never long suspended, except at the hour of refreshing 
sleep — with regard to those powers, how few surpass their 
fellow-creatures of common information and modern attain- 
ments ! How very few deserve distinction ! How rarely 
does one attain to eminence ! 

Oratory is highly useful to him that excels in it. In com- 
mon conversation, observe the advantages which the fluent 
speaker enjoys over the man that hesitates, and stumbles in 
discourse. With half his information, he has twice his im- 
portance ; he commands the respect of his auditors ; he in- 
structs and gratifies them. In the general transactions of 
business, the same superiority attends them. He communi- 
cates his views with clearness, precision and effect; he car- 
ries his point by his mere readiness ; he concludes his treaty 
before another kind of man would have well set about it. 
Does he plead the cause of friendship ? — How happy is his 
friend ! Of charity ? How fortunate is the distressed ! 
Should he enter the legislature of his country, he approves 
himself the people's bulwark ! 



LESSON CXXIII. 
THE BEAUTIES OF CREATION.— Heber. 

I praised the earth, in beauty seen, 
With garlands gay of various green ; 
I praised the sea whose ample field 
Shone glorious as a silver shield : 
And earth and ocean seemed to say 
11 Our beauties are but for a day !" 
15 



170 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



I praised the sun, whose chariot rolled 
On wheels of amber and of gold ; 
I praised the moon, whose softer eye 
Gleamed sweetly through the summer sky ! 
And moon and sun in answer said, 
"Our days of light are numbered !" 



This Figure exhibits 
another chaste devotion- 
al attitude. The hands 
thus placed upon the 
breast, are said to be 
crossed. In the exam- 
ple selected for illustra- 
tion, the course of the 
gesture begins at the let- 
ter O ; the stroke, made 
by the pressure of the 
hands, comes upon the 
word God; and the 
hands — being suspended 




wsm 




in this crossed position 
until the word compare 
\ has been spoken — leave 
: the breast and move down 
jupon the next line, slow- 
/ ly, coming to rest upon 
the word fair. Reli- 
gious emotions of the 
heart, sentiments of ado- 
ration, and the like, fur- 
nish forms of speech, ap- 
propriate to this beauti- 
ful gesture. 



| O God ! O good beyond compare f 
If thus thy meaner works are fair, ) 
If thus thy bounties gild the span 
Of ruined earth and sinful man, 
How glorious must the mansion be, 
Where thy redeemed shall dwell with thee. 



LESSON CXXIV. 



CASABIANCA— Mrs. Hemans. 

Young Casabianca, a boy about thirteen years old, son to the Admiral 
of the Orient, remained at his post in the battle of the Nile, after the 
ship had taken fire, and all the guns had been abandoned, and perished in 
the explosion of the vessel, when the flames had reached the powder. 

The boy stood on the burning deck, 

Whence all but him had fled ; 
The flame that lit the battle's wreck, 

Shone round him o'er the dead. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 171 

Yet beautiful and bright he stood, 

As born to rule the storm ; 
A creature of heroic blood, 

A proud, though child-like form. 

The flames rolled on — he would not go, 

Without his Father's word ; 
That Father faint in death below, 

His voice no longer heard. 

He called aloud : — " say, Father, say, 

If yet my task is done ?" 
He knew not that the chieftain lay 

Unconscious of his son. 

"Speak, Father !" once again he cried, 

" If I may yet be gone ! 
And" — but the booming shots replied, 

And fast the flames rolled on. 

Upon his brow he felt their breath, 

And in his waving hair, 
And looked from that lone post of death, 

In still, yet brave despair — 

And shouted but once more aloud, 

" My Father ! must I stay ?" 
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, 

The wreathing fires made way. 

They wrapt the ship in splendor wild, 

They caught the flag on high, 
And streamed above the gallant child, 

Like banners in the sky. 

There came a burst of thunder sound — 

The boy — oh ! where was he ? 
Ask of the winds that far around 

With fragments strewed the sea. 

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, 

That well had borne their part — 
But the noblest thing which perished there, 

Was that young faithful heart ! 



172 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER, 



LESSON CXXV. 



THE SHIP .—Anonymous. 

The summer sun is on the wave, 
The zephyr seeks the sea, 

And ripples, dancing round her, lave 
The bulwark of the free. 



This Figure ex- 
hibits an attitude 
of discovery min- 
gled with admira- 
tion. The course 
of the gesture be- 
gins at the word 
how ; the stroke 
comes upon the 
word beautiful, 
and the hands — 
being suspended 
through the rest 
of the line — com- 
mence their down- 
ward course upon 
the word the, and 
come to rest upon 
the word swell. — 
The pupil will no- 
tice that the posi- 
tion of the feet is 




quite extended, the 
right hand well eZ- 
evated, with the 
middle and little 
fingers curved con- 
siderably inward ; 
the left hand has 
the palm down- 
ward. The right 
foot is firmly plant- 
ed, and the knee 
well braced. Emo- 
tions of friendship, 
of warm saluta- 
tion, applause, and 
the like, or the is- 
suing of directions 
to or concerning a 
distant person or 
object, may em- 
ploy this form of 
action. 



| How beautiful and brave a thing ! 

The rising swell ) she rides, 
While sun and shade, uniting, fling 

Their colors on her sides. 

Her decks on which the sun beams play, 

Are girt by many a gun, 
That guard our fame by night and day, 

Where laurels green are won. 
And ever may she lift on high 

The banner of our glory, 
Bearing in every azure sky 

The stars that tell our story. 

And though the tempest clouds may lower 

Above the angry deep, 
And storms, with wild convulsive power, 

Around that vessel sweep, 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 173 

While yet there is one shattered sail 

To flutter in the blast, 
Oh may she bear through gloom and gale, 

That banner to the last. 



LESSON CXXVI. 

THE SNOW ! THE SNOW !— Knight. 

The snow, the snow ! I love the snow, 

With its wild and frantic curl, 
As it dances along on the frigid blast, 
That flings it about as it whistles past, 
In many an eddying whirl ! 

O give me the snow, the white-winged snow, 

That falls from the wintry sky, 
That robes the earth in a vest of white, 
And sparkles and shines in the sun's rich light, 
Like the starry arch on high ! 

The snow, the snow ! I love the snow, 

'Tis ever dear to me ! 
With the gladsome cry of the bright-cheek'd boy, 
Who hails its flight with a shout of joy — 
With a shout so full of glee ! 

Then give me the snow, the white-winged snow, 

That falls from the wintry sky, 
That robes the earth in a vest of white, 
And sparkles and shines in the sun's rich light, 
Like the starry arch on high ! 



LESSON CXXVII. 

OLD IRONSIDES.— Holmes. 

The United States frigate Constitution is meant by Old Ironsides. 
She wa3 a noble ship of war, and after waging many victorious battles, was 
condemned to be broken up. The indignant tone of public sentiment may 
be inferred from the following spirited verses. 

Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ! 
Long has it waved on high, 
15* 



174 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



And many an eye has danced to see 

That banner in the sky ; 
Beneath it rang the battle shout, 

And burst the cannon's roar ; 
The meteor of the ocean air 

Shall sweep the clouds no more ! 

Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, 

Where knelt the vanquished foe, 
When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, 

And waves were white below, 
No more shall feel the victor's tread, 

No more the conquered knee ; 
The harpies of the shore shall pluck 

The eagle of the sea. 

Oh ! better that her shattered hulk 
Should sink beneath the wave : — 

Her thunders shook the mighty deep, 
And there should be her grave ! 

Nail to the mast her holy flag, 
Set every threadbare sail, 

And give her to the god of storms, — 



The course of this 
gesture begins at the . 
word the; the hand / 
passes up instantly to ; 
the word lightning, ma- I 
king its stroke there, \ 
with spread fingers ; it \ 
falls to rest at the word \ 
gale. With the begin- 
ning of the gesture, the 
speaker slides into the 
second right position ; 
as represented in the 
figure, — and with the 
termination of it, he 
comes again into the 
first right. This ges- 
tuxe, as here applied, if 




well executed, is appro- 
priate and impressive. 
I have seen small boys, 
in reciting the admira- 
ble poem of Marco Boz- 
zaris, — see Z7. *S*. Speak- 
er, page 316, — make 
quite a point with it, 
upon the expression, — 
" As lightnings from 
the mountain cloud." It 
is proper to language of 
sudden alarm, fearful 
emergency, — wherever, 
indeed, the speaker de- 
signs to give force to a 
startling idea. 



| The lightning, and the gale ! ) 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 175 

LESSON CXXVIII. 
SURVIVORS OF THE REVOLUTION.— Webster. 

Venerable Men ! you have come down to us from a 
former generation. Heaven has bounteously lengthened out 
your lives, that you might behold this joyous day. You 
are now, where you stood, fifty years ago, this very hour, 
with your brothers, and your neighbors, shoulder to shoulder, 
in the strife for your country. Behold, how altered ! The 
same heavens are indeed over your heads ; the same ocean 
rolls at your feet ; but all else, how changed ! You hear 
now no roar of hostile cannon, you see no mixed volumes of 
smoke and flame rising from burning Charlestown. The 
ground strewed with the dead and the dying ; the impetuous 
charge ; the steady and successful repulse ; the loud call to 
repeated assault; the summoning of all that is manly to 
repeated resistance ; a thousand bosoms freely and fearless- 
ly bared in an instant to whatever of terror there may be 
in war and death ; — all these you have witnessed, but you 
witness them no more. All is peace; and God has granted 
you the sight of your country's happiness, ere you slumber 
in the grave forever. He has allowed you to behold and to 
partake the reward of your patriotic toils ; and he has allow- 
ed us, your sons and countrymen, to meet you here, and in 
the name of the present generation, in the name of your 
country, in the name of liberty, to thank you ! May the 
Father of all mercies smile upon your declining years, and 
bless them ! And when you shall here have exchanged 
your embraces ; when you shall once more have pressed the 
hands which have been so often extended to give succor in 
adversity, or grasped in the exultation of victory ; then look 
abroad into this lovely land, which your young valor defend- 
ed, and mark the happiness with which it is filled ; yea, 
look abroad into the whole earth, and see what a name you 
have contributed to give to your country, and what a praise 
you have added to freedom^ and then rejoice in the sympathy 
and gratitude, which beam upon your last days from the 
improved condition of mankind. 



176 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



LESSON CXXIX. 

INTEMPERANCE.— Anonymous. 

Oh ! take the maddening bowl away ; 

Remove the poisonous cup ! 
My soul is sick — its burning ray 

Hath drunk my spirit up : 
Take — take it from my loathing lip, 

Ere madness fires my brain ; | 



This Figure ex- 
hibits an attitude 
of aversion min- 
gled with fear. — 
The course of the 
gesture begins im- 
mediately after the 
word brain ; at the 
same instant the 
head turns from 
the object of dis- 
like, the feet 
change from the 
first right to the 
first left position, 
and the arms dart 
out with the hands 




up — as seen in the 
picture — making 
the stroke upon 
the word take ; 
the first right po- 
sition is resumed, 
as before, on the 
word its, and the 
hands come to rest 
upon the word li- 
quid. Sentiments 
of disgust, hate, 
abhorrence, and 
the like, are ap- 
= == S£ propriate to this 
form of action. 



Take — take it hence, nor let me sip 
Its liquid ) death again. 

Oh ! dash it on the thirsty earth, 

For I will drink no more : 
It cannot cheer the heart with mirth 

That grief hath wounded sore ; 
For serpents wreath its sparkling brim, 

And adders lurk below ; 
It hath no soothing charm for him 

Who sinks oppressed with wo. 

Then, hence ! away, thou deadly foe — 

I scorn thy base control : 
Away, away ! — -I fear thy blow, 

Thou palsy of the soul ! 
Henceforth I drink no more of thee, 

Thou bane of Adam's race, 
But to a heavenly fountain flee, 

And drink the dews of grace. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 177 

LESSON CXXX. 

THE STORM.— Anonymous. 

The storm is dreadful. The heavens are one vast black 
cloud. The sheated rain comes down in torrents. The fair 
earth is deluged. The sea, the broad breasted sea, is 
tossed in terrible commotion, and the whole round world 
seems wrapt in eternal midnight. — God reigns ! let all the 
earth stand in awe of him. — Hark ! it is his voice, the rolling 
thunder !— See ! it is his eye, the fearful lightning ! the smit 
rock declares his power, and the monarch oak, rent from 
the adamantine hills. 

Alas ! — on such a night — for the poor sea-boy. No friend- 
ly star lights his dread course. The wind spirit howls. 
Wild raves the maddened ocean. The demons of the storm 
make merry at his fate. Look ! now tossed on mountain 
billows — now sunk to the lowest depths, — " a thing of ele- 
mental sport 5 ' — the frail bark hurries to destruction. — O 
God ! have mercy on the poor sea-boy ! — Hark ! he shrieks— 
" help — help/' he cries, " help !" — but ah ! no help is nigh. 
The monsters of the deep stand ready for their prey, and the 
victim in despair awaits his awful fate. The booming gun, 
and the shriek of human agony are vain. He who rules the 
storm, permits the destiny, and the doomed ship strikes on 
the fatal rock. 

" Oh ! sailor boy ! woe to thy dreams of delight ! 

In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss — 
Oh ! where is the picture that fancy touched bright 

Thy father's fond pressure — thy mother's fond kiss ! 
Oh ! sailor boy ! sailor boy ! never again 

Shall home, friends or kindred thy wishes repay ; 
Beloved and lamented — down deep in the main, 

Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay. 
On beds of green sea-flowers, thy limbs shall be laid ; 

Around thy white bones, the red coral shall grow ; 
Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made, 

And every part suit to thy mansion below. 
Days, months, years and ages, shall circle away, 

And still the vast waters above thee shall roll — 
Earth loses thy pattern for ever and aye — 

Oh ! sailor boy ! sailor boy ! peace to thy soul." 



178 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

LESSON CXXXI. 



THE FLIGHT OF THE MUSKOGEE INDIAN.— Anonymous. 

On the shore of Carolina an Indian warrior stood, 
A captive of the Shawanees and reddened with their blood ; 
Strange arts of varied torture, his conquerors tried in vain, 
Like a rock that stands the billows he dashed them off again. 

He shouted, and the echoes returned the lengthened shriek, 
" I have rent you as the eagle rends the dove within his beak, 
And ye give me women's tortures ; see, I lightly cast them by, 
As the Spirit of the storm-cloud throws the vapor from the 
sky." 

" Ye are women !" the wild echo came wilder on the air— 
" J will show a worthy trial for a Muskogee to bear ; 
Let me grasp a heated gun in this raw and bloody hand, 
And ye shall not see an eyelash move to shame my father-land. 

They gave the glowing steel. He took it with a smile, 
And held it as a plaything ;— they stood in awe the whi le ; 
Then, springing like an antelope, he brandished it around, 
And toward the beetling eminence upstarted with a bound. 



This Figure exhibits 
an attitude of pain- 
Jul observation and 
surprise. On the 
phrase — " One leap 
and he is over .'" — 
the speaker inclines 
intensely forward, 
gazing, as it were, 
after the escaping 
Indian; immediate- 
ly after the word over 
is pronounced, the 
course of the gesture 
begins, the second 
right position is as- 
sumed, the hands are 
elevated and drawn 




back, with the fin- 
gers spread, — as 
\ seen in the picture 
\ — making the stroke 
• upon the word fierce; 
\ the speaker returns 
/ to the first right po- 
■' sition on the word 
massy, and the hands 
fall to rest at the 
word form. This 
gesture may be ap- 
plied to the language 
of astonishment, sim- 
ple affright, alarmed 
compassion, and the 
like. 



One leap and he is over ! | fierce, dashing through the stream, 
And his massy form) lies floating 'neath the clear and sunny 
beam ; 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 179 

A hundred arrows sped at once, but missed that warrior bold, 
And his mangled arms, ere set of sun, his little ones enfold. 



LESSON CXXXII. 

NATIONAL CHARACTER.— Maxcy. 

The loss of a firm national character, or the degradation 
of a nation's honor, is the inevitable prelude to her destruc- 
tion. Behold the once proud fabric of a Roman Empire — 
an empire carrying its arts and arms into every part of the 
eastern continent ; the monarchs of mighty kingdoms drag- 
ged at the wheels of her triumphal chariots ; her eagle 
waving over the ruins of desolated countries. Where is her 
splendor, her wealth, her power, her glory ? Extinguished 
forever. Her mouldering temples, the mournful vestiges 
of her former grandeur, afford a shelter to her muttering 
Monks. Where are her statesmen, her sages, her philoso- 
phers, her orators, her generals ? Go to their solitary tombs 
and inquire. She lost her national character and her de- 
struction followed. The ramparts of her national pride were 
broken down, and Vandalism desolated her classic fields. 

Such — the warning voice of antiquity, the example of all 
republics proclaim may be our fate. But let us no longer 
indulge these gloomy anticipations. The commencement of 
our liberty presages the dawn of a brighter period to the 
world. That bold, enterprising spirit which conducted our 
heroes to peace and safety, and gave us a lofty rank amid 
the empires of the world, still animates the bosoms of their 
descendants. Look back to that moment when they unbarred 
the dungeons of the slave and dashed his fetters to the earth, 
when the sword of a Washington leapt from its scabbard to 
revenge the slaughter of our countrymen. Place their ex- 
ample before you. Let the sparks of their veteran wisdom 
flash across your minds, and the sacred altars of your liberty, 
crowned with immortal honors, rise before you. Relying on 
the virtue, the courage, the patriotism, and the strength of our 
country, we may expect our national character will become 
more energetic, our citizens more enlightened, and may hail 
the age as not far distant, when will be heard, as the proud- 
est exclamation of man : — I am an American ! 



180 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



LESSON CXXXIII. 



I'LL DRINK NO MORE. 

No, no ; I'll drink no more, 
The witching spell is o'er ; 
The cup was sparkling bright, 
And thrilled with wild delight ; 



This Figure exhibits 
an attitude expressive of 
wildness, or distress of 
mind. The course of 
the gesture begins at the , 
word soon, and the hands i 
— with the fingers spread I 
— come to the forehead, \ 
making the stroke upon 
the word brain ; the fin- 
gers press with energy, 
and — upon the second 
word brain — coming clo- 
ser together, are drawn 
slowly toward the tem- 
ples, indicative of men- 
tal anguish ; the hands, 




then, in a curve, make a 
downward horizontal 
stroke, upon the word 
burnt, and fall to rest 
upon the word maniac. 
Much of the effect of this 
and similar gestures, de- 
pends upon the skill with 
which it is executed. 
Good taste and practice, 
however, render them 
impressive and beautiful. 
Mental agony, despair, 
fear of apprehended evil, 
and the like, are illustra- 
ted by this form of ac- 
tion. 



But | soon my brain, my brain, 
Had burnt with maniac) pain. 

No, no ; I'll drink no more — 
'Twas foolish, mad before, 
But now 'twere damning sin, 
To let the tempter in ; 
For now I know his cup 
With death is brimming up. 

No, no ; I'll drink no more, 

The hellish dream is o'er ; 

I wake, I wake to bliss, 

Oh, God! I'm sure of this ; 

And shall I lift the bowl, 

And wreck my Heaven-bound soul ? 

No, no ; I'll drink no more, 
Though golden goblet pour 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 181 

The ruby tide in showers, 

In pleasure's brightest bowers ) — 

The Circean spell is o'er, 

I'll drink, I'll drink no more. 



LESSON CXXXIV. 

UNION— LIBERTY.— Anonymous. 

Hail, our country's natal morn, 
Hail, our spreading kindred born, 
Hail, thou banner not yet torn, 

Waving o'er the free ! 
While, this day, in festal throng, 
Millions swell the patriot song 
Shall not we thy notes prolong, 

Hallowed Jubilee ? 

Who would sever Freedom's shrine ? 
Who would draw the invidious line ?— 
Though by birth, one spot be mine, 

Dear is all the rest : 
Dear to me the South's fair land, 
Dear, the central Mountain-band, 
Dear, New England's rocky strand, 

Dear the prairied West. 

By our altars, pure and free, 
By our Law's deep rooted tree, 
By the past's dread memory, 

By our Washington ; 
By our common parent tongue, 
By our hopes, bright, buoyant, young, 
By the tie of country strong, — 

We will still be one* 

Fathers ! have ye bled in vain ? 
Ages ! must ye droop again ? 
MAKER ! shall we rashly stain 

Blessings sent by Thee ? 
No ! receive our solemn vow, 
While before thy throne we bow, 
Ever to maintain as now, 

" Union — Liberty." 
16 



182 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



LESSON CXXXV. 



PATIENCE RECOMMENDED.— Bolingbroke. 

The darts of adverse fortune are always leveled at our 
heads. Some reach us and some fly to wound our neighbors. 
Let us, therefore, impose an equal temper on our minds, and 
pay, without murmuring, the tribute which we owe to hu- 
manity. The winter brings cold, and we must freeze. The 
summer returns with heat, and we must melt. The incle- 
mency of the air disorders our health, and we must be sick. 
This established course of things it is not in our power to 
change, but it is in our power to assume such a greatness of 
mind as becomes the wise and virtuous, and enables them to 
encounter the accidents of life with fortitude. Let us address 
ourselves to God who governs all, as Cleanthes did in those 
admirable verses — 

Parent of Nature ! Master of the world, 

Where'er thy Providence directs, behold 

My steps with cheerful resignation turn ; 

Fate leads the willing, drags the backward on ; 

Why should I grieve, when grieving I must bear, 

Or take with guilt, what guiltless I must share ? 



These Figures, 
and those which fol- 
low, in this part of 
the book, exhibit ex- 
amples of continu- 
ous gesture. The 
pupil is to under- 
stand that the Fig- 
ures represent but 
one person. In the 
present example, the 
first Figure shows 
the first gesture. It 
is made with the in- 
dex finger. The 
course is upward 
upon the word thus, 
and downward upon 
the words let us, 
the stroke coming 
upon the word speak. 




The second Figure 
exhibits the contin- 
uous gesture. The 
hand opens upon the 
word and, and so 
ascends upon the 
word thus, descend- 
ing upon the words 
let us, and making 
the stroke upon the 
word act ; it makes 
a curve upon the 
word resignation 
and there comes to 
rest. This form of 
action is called no- 
ting, and it is used 
to particularize, to 
enumerate, to dis- 
criminate, and the 
like. 



| Thus let us speak, and [thus let us act Resignation) to 
the will of God is true magnanimity. But the sure mark of 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 183 

a feeble and pusillanimous spirit, is to struggle against, to 
censure the order of Providence, and, instead of mending our 
own conduct, to set up for correcting that of our Maker. 



LESSON CXXXVI. 

THE INQUIRY.— Anonymous. 

Tell me, ye winged winds, 

That round my pathway roar, 

Do ye not know some spot 

Where mortals weep no more? 

Some lone and pleasant dell, 

Some valley in the west, 

Where, free from toil and pain, 

The weary soul may rest ? 
The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, 
And sighed for pity, as it answered, " No!" 

Tell me, thou mighty deep, 

Whose billows round me play, 

Knowest thou some favored spot, 

Some island far away, 

Where weary man may find 

The bliss for which he sighs, 

Where sorrow never lives, 

And friendship never dies ? 
The loud waves rolling in perpetual flow, 
Stopped for a while, and sighed to answer, "No !" 

And thou, serenest moon, 

That with such holy face 

Dost look down upon the earth 

Asleep in night's embrace — 

Tell me, in all thy round, 

Hast thou not seen some spot, 

Where miserable man 

Might find a happier lot ? 
Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe, 
And a sweet voice, but sad, responded, " No !" 

Tell me, my sacred soul ; 
Oh ! tell me, hope and faith, 
Is there no resting-place 
From sorrow, sin, and death ? 
Is there no happy spot 
Where mortals may be blessed, 



184 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



Where grief may find a balm, 

And weariness a rest ? 
Faith, hope, and love, best boons to mortals given, 
Waved their bright wings, and answered, " Yes, in 

heaven." 



LESSON CXXXVII. 

THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE.— Knowles. 

The gentleman, Sir, has brought forward a very curious 
argument, for the purpose of proving, that the Romans were 
incapable of being a free people ; namely, that their magis- 
trates were the mere echoes of the people. He adverts, I 
suppose, to what were called the tribunes of the people — 
officers that acted particularly for the plebeian orders, and 
were generally chosen from their body. But those magis- 
trates, or tribunes, were, it seems, the mere voices of the 
people, and that circumstance rendered the people incapable 
of being free ! To me, at least, this is a paradox. Who 
elected these tribunes ? — The people. What were they ? — 
The representatives of the people. Whose affairs did they 
manage % — The affairs of the people. To whom were they 
responsible ? — The people. What should they have been, 
then, but the voices, or as the gentleman has expressed it, 
the echoes of the people ? But this circumstance rendered 



The first gesture 
is made with the 
right index finger in 
the left open hand, 
as seen in the first 
Figure ; the continu- 
ous gesture, with the 
right open hand, in 
the left open hand, 
as seen in the second 
Figure. The course 
of the first begins at 
the word did, rising 
gradually till it reach- 
es its height upon the 
word them; it then 
descends in the same 




manner, making its 
stroke upon the word 
tribunes. The course 
of the continuous is 
the same as that of 
the first, making the 
stroke upon the word 
measures. The hands 
now move outward 
in a curve, with 
some emphasis upon 
the word bondage, 
and gradually come 
to rest at the word 
affairs. — This is ano- 
ther example of no- 
ting. 



the Roman people incapable of being free ! | Did it shackle 
them to have a control over their tribunes ? j Did it enslave 
them to have a voice in their own measures ? Did it sell 
them into bondage to have the disposal of their own affairs ? ) 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 185 

If it did, I should advise you, Sir, not to meddle with that 
honest man, your steward. Bid him let what farms he 
pleases ; demand what fines he pleases ; cultivate what land 
he pleases ; fell what timber he pleases ; keep what accounts 
he pleases ; and make what returns he pleases ; lest, by 
impertinently meddling with your servant, in your own 
affairs, you rob yourself — ruin your estate — become in- 
volved in debt — and end your days in prison ! 



LESSON CXXXVIII. 
TAKE HEED.— Anonymous. 

I knew him when a little child, 

As opening rosebud fair ; 
He seemed an angel when he smiled, 

So pure a light was there. 

I knew him when a brave, bright boy, 

With spirit like a bird's ; 
His heart a gushing fount of joy, 

And music all his words. 

I knew him when a noble youth, 

With fame-aspiring eye ; 
His very look was that of truth — 

The truth beyond the sky. 

I knew him when young manhood came — 
How proud the wreath he wore ; 

To every heart his gifted name 
Virtue's bright promise bore. 

I knew him when his youthful bride, 

Joyous he came to wed ; 
The country's flower, the country's pride, - 

" God bless iliem!" thousands said. 

I knew him when he stooped to kiss — 
How sweet that kiss must be ! — 

The pledges of his wedded bliss, 
Bright, blessed cherubs three. 
16* 



186 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



I knew him at the holy shrine — 

The altar of his God ; 
I saw him take the bread and wine, 

And pure the path he trod. 

I knew him this — I knew him all 
The fondest heart could crave ; 

I knew — yet, God ! his blackened pall, 
Covers a drunkard's grave / 



LESSON CXXXIX. 

WAR-SONG OF THE GREEKS.— Proctor. 

Awake ! 'tis the terror of war, 

The Crescent is tossed on the wind ; 
But our flag flies on high, like the perilous star 





These Figures exhibit an example of what is sometimes called alternate 
gesture. The second right hand gesture, palm up, is made upon the word 
before, and the second left hand gesture, palm up off, upon the word be- 
hind. The left hand commences its action, precisely as the right hand 
begins to come to rest, upon the word and. 

Of the battle. I Before and behind, 
Wherever ) it glitters, it darts 
Bright death into tyrannous hearts. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 187 

Who are they that now bid us be slaves ? 

They are foes to the good and the free ; 
Go bid them first fetter the might of the waves ; 

The sea may be conquered, — but we 
Have spirits untamable still, 
And the strength to be free, — and the will. 

Shall we — shall we die in our chains, 

Who once were as free as the wind ? 
Who is it that threatens, — who is it arraigns ? 

Are they princes of Europe or Ind ? 
Are they kings to the uttermost pole ? 
They are dogs, with a taint on their soul ! 



LESSON CXL. 

BIRTH-DAY OF WASHINGTON.— Webster. 

When sublime virtues cease to be abstractions — when they 
become imbodied in human character, and exemplified in 
human conduct, we should be false to our own nature, if we 
did not indulge in the spontaneous effusions of our gratitude 
and our admiration. A true lover of the virtue of patriot- 
ism delights to contemplate its purest models ; and that love 
of country may be well suspected, which affects to soar so 
high into the regions of sentiment as to be lost and absorbed 
in the abstract feeling, and becomes too elevated, or too re- 
fined, to glow with fervor in the commendation or the love of 
individual benefactors. All this is unnatural. It is as if 
one should be so enthusiastic a lover of poetry as to care 
nothing for Homer or Milton ; so passionately attached to 
eloquence as to be indifferent to Tully and Chatham ; or 
such a devotee to the arts, in such an ecstacy with the ele- 
ments of beauty, proportion, and expression, as to regard the 
master-pieces of Raphael and Michael Angelo with coldness 
or contempt. We may be assured, gentlemen, that he who 
really loves the thing itself, loves its finest exhibitions. A 
true friend of his country loves her friends and benefactors, 
and thinks it no degradation to commend and commemorate 
them. The voluntary outpouring of the public feeling made 
to-day from the north to the south, and from the east to the 
west, proves this sentiment to be both just and natural. In 



188 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

the cities and in the villages, in the public temples and in the 
family circles, among all ages and sexes, gladdened voices, 
to-day, bespeak grateful hearts and a freshened recollection 
of the virtues of the Father of his Country. And it will be 
so, in all time to come, so long as public virtue is itself an 
object of regard. The ingenuous youth of America will 
hold up to themselves the bright model of Washington's ex- 
ample, and study to be what they behold ; they will contem- 
plate his character till all his virtues spread out and display 
themselves to their delighted vision ; as the earliest astrono- 
mers, the shepherds on the plains of Babylon, gazed at the 
stars till they saw them form into clusters and constellations, 
overpowering at length the eyes of the beholders with the 
united blaze of a thousand lights. 



LESSON CXLI. 

OLD WINTER— Moore. 

Old Winter is coming again — alack ! 

How icy and cold is he ! 
He cares not a pin for a shivering back — 
He's a saucy old chap to white and black — 
He whistles his chills with a wonderful knack, 

For he comes from a cold country ! 

A witty old fellow this Winter is — 

A mighty old fellow for glee ! 
He cracks his jokes on the pretty sweet Miss — 
The wrinkled old maiden unfit to kiss — 
And freezes the dew of their lips — for this 

Is the way with such fellows as he ! 

Old Winter 's a frolicksome blade, I wot — 

He is wild in his humor, and free ! 
He '11 whistle along for the " want of his thought,"' 
And set all the warmth of our furs at naught, 
And ruffle the laces by pretty girls bought, 

For a frolicksome fellow is he. 

Old Winter is blowing his gusts along, 

And merrily shaking the tree ! 
From morning till night he will sing his song, 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 189 

Now moaning and short — now howling and long— 
His voice is loud, for his lungs are strong ; 
A merry old fellow is he ! 

Old Winter 's a wicked old chap I ween — 

As wicked as ever you see ; 
He withers the flowers so fresh and green — 
And bites the pert nose of the miss of sixteen, 
As she trippingly walks in maidenly sheen ; 

A wicked old fellow is he ! 

Old Winter's a tough old fellow for blows, 

As tough as ever you see ! 
He will trip up our trotters and rend our clothes, 
And stiffen our limbs from fingers to toes ; 
He minds not the cries of his friends or his foes — 

A tough old fellow is he ! 

A cunning old fellow is Winter, they say, 

A cunning old fellow is he ! 
He peeps in the crevices day by day, 
To sec how we're passing our time away, 
And marks all our doings from grave to gay : 

I 'm afraid he is peeping at me ! 



LESSON CXLII. 

THE LAND OF OUR BIRTH— Anonymous. 

There is not a spot in this wide-peopled earth 
So dear to the heart as the land of our birth ; 
*Tis the home of our childhood ! the beautiful spot 
Which memory retains when all else is forgot : 

May the blessings of God 

Ever hallow the sod, 
And its valleys and hills by our children be trod. 

Can the language of strangers in accents unknown, 
Send a thrill to our bosom like that of our own ? 
The face may be fair, and the smile may be bland, 
But it breathes not the tones of our dear native land ! 

There J s no spot on earth 

Like the land of our birth, 
Where heroes keep guard o'er the altar and hearth ! 



190 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



How sweet is the language which taught us to blend 
The dear name of parent, of husband and friend ; 
Which taught us to lisp on our mother's soft breast, 
The ballads she sung as she rocked us to rest. 

May the blessings of God 

Ever hallow the sod, 





The course of the first gesture begins at the word and, its stroke coming 
upon the word valleys; it is the first double gesture, palms up. The con- 
tinuous gesture commences where the first ends, its stroke coming upon 
the word hills ; it is the third double gesture, palms up ; the hands de- 
scend to the second double gesture, palms up, upon the word children t 
and come to rest upon the word trod. 

| And its valleys \ and hills by our children be trod ! ) 



LESSON CXLIII. 
THE WIND IN A FROLIC. —Howit. 

The wind one morning sprung up from sleep, 
Saying, " Now for a frolic ! now for a leap ! 
Now for a mad-cap galloping chase ! 
I'll make a commotion in every place !" 
So it swept with a bustle right through a great town, 
Creaking the signs, and scattering down 
Shutters ; and whisking with merciless squalls, 
Old women's bonnets, and gingerbread stalls ; 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 191 

There never was heard a much lustier shout, 

As the apples and oranges tumbled about, 

And the urchins, that stand with their thievish eyes 

For ever on watch, ran off each with a prize. 

Then away to the field it went blustering and humming, 

And the cattle all wondered whatever was coming ; 

It plucked by their tails the grave matronly cows, 

And tossed the colts' manes all about their brows, 

Till, offended at such a familiar salute, 

They all turned their backs and stood silently mute. 

So on it went capering and playing its pranks, 

Whistling with reeds on the broad river's banks ; 

Puffing the birds as they sat on the spray, 

Or the traveler grave, on the king's highway. 

It was not too nice to hustle the bags 

Of the beggar, and flutter his dirty rags ; 

'Twas so bold that it feared not to play its joke 

With the doctor's wig, and the gentleman's cloak. 

Through the forest it roared, and cried gaily, " Now, 

You sturdy old oaks, I'll make you bow !" 

And it made them bow without more ado, 

And cracked their great branches through and through. 

Then it rushed like a monster on cottage and farm, 

Striking their dwellers with sudden alarm, 

And they ran out like bees in a mid-summer swarm. 

There were dames with their 'kerchiefs tied over their caps, 

To see if their poultry were free from mishaps. 

The turkies they gobbled, the geese screamed aloud, 

And the hens crept to roost in a terrified crowd ; 

There was rearing of ladders, and logs laying on, 

Where the thatch from the roof threatened soon to be gone. 

But the wind had passed on, and had met in a lane 

With a school-boy, who panted and struggled in vain ; 

For it tossed him, and twirled him, then passed, and he 

stood 
With his hat in a pool, and his shoe in the mud. 



LESSON CXLIV. 

THE RAINBOW.— Amelia. 
I sometimes have thought, in my loneliest hours, 



192 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 





The first gesture is made by bringing the open hand to the breast ; its 
course begins at the word that, and its stroke comes upon the word heart. 
The continuous gesture is the first right hand gesture, palm down ; its 
course begins at the word like, descending from the breast, and its stroke 
comes upon the word dew; the hand falls to rest on the word flowers. 

| That lie on my heart | like the dew on the flowers,) 

Of a ramble I took one bright afternoon, 

When my spirit was light as a blossom in June ; 

The green earth was moist with the late fallen showers — 

The breeze fluttered down and blew open the flowers — 

While a single white cloud to its haven of rest, 

On the white wing of peace floated off in the west. 

As I threw back my forehead to catch the cool breeze, 

That scattered the rain drops and dimpled the seas, 

Far up the blue sky a fair rainbow unrolled 

Its soft-tinted pinions of purple and gold ; 

'Twas born in a moment, yet quick as its birth, 

It had stretched to the uttermost ends of the earth, 

And fair as an angel, it floated all free, 

With a wing on the earth and a wing on the sea. 

How wide was the sweep of its beautiful wings ! 
How boundless its circle ! how radiant its rings ! 
If I looked on the sky 'twas suspended in air, 
If I looked on the ocean the rainbow was there ; 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 193 



Thus forming a girdle as brilliant and whole 

As the thoughts of the rainbow that circled my soul ; 

Like the wing of the Deity, calmly unfurled, 

It bent from the cloud and encircled the world. 



LESSON CXLV. 

PARENTAL RESPONSIBILITY.— Anonymous. 

The intrinsic value of every child, invests the parental re- 
lation with surpassing interest. Immortality is the birthright 
of every child ; and it is a birthright of which he can never 
be defrauded. Man can make him a cripple ; a lunatic ; a 
slave ; a corpse ; but in his nobler nature, he can never make 
him mortal. 

Yonder tree has stood in the forest since the days of the 
flood, and drank its nourishment from the dust of a thousand 
generations ; but the hand of death is on it, and the next 
blast will bring it to the earth. And those stars, " scattered 
like flowers through the blue fields of heaven," which 
bloomed and gladdened us so long — they, too, must fade, and 
droop, and fall. And that great king of day, who has looked 
down so long upon our sorrows and our joys — his eyes must 
grow dim, his hour must come — death shall cast a pall over 
his burnished throne. But the soul — when shall that die — 
when shall it be carried to the tomb ? After ages have passed 
away, countless as the leaves of the forest, countless as the 
sands on the shores of eternity, that boy will still be alive — 
a seraph or a fiend, a glorified saint or a wretched spirit. 
My soul is overwhelmed within me, when I think of the 
height of glory, or the depth of shame, to which each child 
in every family is destined. Take a child from a hovel, and 
put him on a throne ; and how greatly have you exalted 
him ! How wonderful a change ! You can only stand still 
and lift your hands in dumb astonishment. And yet, what 
have you done for him ? Will he weep less than other men ? 
Will he suffer less ? Will he live longer than other men ? 
Crowns that can keep away neither sorrow, nor pain, nor 
death — those may have them who want them. But that boy 
— Oh! that boy shall be a priest and prince, where. tears, 
and groans, and knells are not known. The crown which 
he shall wear, will be an eternal diadem. That boy may be 

17 



194 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

a king — ah ! he may be a fiend ! His career may end in 
heaven — alas ! it may end in hell ! Instead of robes he may 
be wrapped in flames ! Instead of a crown, he may pillow 
his naked head on the rocks of perdition ! And, father, 
mother, much of the responsibility of this alternative is cast 
on you. 



LESSON CXLVI. 
THE LITTLE SHROUD.— Miss Landon. 

She put him on a snow-white shroud, 

A chaplet on his head ; 
And gathered early primroses 

To scatter o'er the dead. 

She laid him in his little grave — 

; Twas hard to lay him there, 
When spring was putting forth its flowers, 

And every thing was fair. 

She had lost many children — now 

The last of them was gone ; 
And day and night she sat and wept 

Beside the funeral stone. 

One midnight, while her constant tears 

Were falling with the dew, 
She heard a voice, and lo ! her child 

Stood by her, weeping too ! 

His shroud was damp, his face was white ; 

He said — " I cannot sleep, 
Your tears have made my shroud so wet ; 

Oh, mother, do not weep !" 

Oh, love is strong ! — the mother's heart 

Was filled with tender fears ; 
Oh, love is strong ! — and for her child 

Her grief restrained its tears. 

One eve a light shone round her bed, 
And there she saw him stand — 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 195 

Her infant, in his little shroud, 
A taper in his hand. 

: Lo ! mother, see my shroud is dry, 

And I can sleep once more !" 
And beautiful the parting smile 

The little infant wore. 

And down within the silent grave 

He laid his weary head ; 
And soon the early violets 

Grew o'er his grassy bed. 

The mother went her house-hold ways — 

Again she knelt in prayer, 
And only asked of Heaven its aid, 

Her heavy lot to bear. 



LESSON CXLVII. 

WINGS.— Hervey. 

Oh ! for the wings we used to wear, 
When the heart was like a bird, 
And floated still through summer air, 
And painted all it looked on fair, 
And sung to all it heard ! 
When fancy put the seal of truth 
On all the promises of youth. 

It may not — oh, it may not be ! 

I cannot soar on fancy's wing ; 

And hope has been, — like thee, like thee !- 

These many weary years, to me 

A lost and perished thing ! 

Are there no pinions left, to bear 

Me where the good and gentle are! 

Yes !— rise upon the morning's wing, 
And, far beyond the farthest sea, 
Where autumn is the mate of spring, 
And winter comes not withering, 
There is a home for thee !*— 



196 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



The first ges- 
ture is made upon 
the first word 
away; it is the 
second left hand 
gesture, palm up 
off, as seen in the 
first Figure. The 
continuous gesture 
is made upon the 
second word away, 
and is the third left 
hand gesture, palm 
up off, as seen in 
the second Figure ; 
the star marks the 
point from which 
the hand ascends 
in its continuous 
course. The pupil' 
must keep in mind 

that the two Figures represent but one person. The hand descends slowly 
after the word head, and comes to rest upon the word valley. 

| Away — | away ! and lay thy head 
In the low valley ) of the dead ! 




LESSON CXLVIII. 



ADAMS AND JEFFERSON.— Everett. 

They have gone to the companions of their cares, of their 
toils. It is well with them. The treasures of America are 
now in Heaven. How long the list of our good and wise 
and brave assembled there ! how few remain with us ! There 
is our Washington ; and those who followed him in their 
country's confidence, are now met together with him, and all 
that illustrious company. The faithful marble may preserve 
their image ; the engraven brass may proclaim their worth ; 
but the humblest sod of Independent America, with nothing 
but the dew-drops of the morning to gild it, is a prouder 
mausoleum than kings or conquerors can boast. The coun- 
try is their monument. Its independence is their epitaph. 

But not to their country is their praise limited. The 
whole earth is the monument of illustrious men. Wherever 
an agonizing people shall perish, in a generous convulsion, 
for want of a valiant arm and a fearless heart, they will cry. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 197 

in the last accents of despair, Oh, for a Washington, an 
Adams, a Jefferson ! Wherever a regenerated nation, start- 
ing up in its might, shall burst the links of steel that enchain 
it, the praise of our fathers shall be the prelude of their tri- 
umphal song. 

The contemporary and successive generations of men will 
disappear. In the long lapse of ages, the tribes of America, 
like those of Greece and Rome, may pass away. The fabric 
of American Freedom, like all things human, however firm 
and fair, may crumble into dust. But the cause in which 
these our fathers shone, is immortal. They did that, to which 
no age, no people of reasoning men, can be indifferent. 

Their eulogy will be uttered in other languages, when those 
we speak, like us who speak them, shall all be forgotten. 
And when the great account of humanity shall be closed at 
the throne of God, in the bright list of his children, who best 
adorned and served it, shall be found the names of our Adams 
and our Jefferson. 



LESSON CXLIX. 
PLEA OF THE RED INDIAN.— Anonymous. 

Oh ! why should the white man hang on my path, 

Like the hound on the tiger's track ? 
Does the flesh of my dark cheek waken his wrath ? 

Does he covet the bow at my back ? 

He has rivers and seas, where the billow and breeze 

Bear riches for him alone ; 
And the sons of the wood never plunge in the flood 

That the white man calls his own. 

Then why should he covet the streams where none 

But the red skin dare to swim ? 
Oh ! why should he wrong the hunter, one 

Who never did harm to him ? 

The Father above thought fit to give 

To the white man corn and wine ; 
There are golden fields where he may live — 

But the forest wilds are mine. 
17* 



198 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



The eagle has its place of rest — 
The wild horse where to dwell ; 

And the Spirit who gave the bird its nest, 
Made me a home as well. 





The first of these figures exhibits a beautiful suspending gesture made 
upon the first word lack, by bringing the hands up rapidly and crossed, 
with spread fingers. The second Figure, an emphatic, significant gesture, 
made upon the second word back, by striking out the hands, spiritedly, in 
nearly a horizontal line ; the hands come to rest after the word red. 

Then | back, go | back, from the red ) skin's track, 

For the hunter's eye grows dim, 
To find that the white man wrongs the one 

Who never did harm to him. 



LESSON CL. 



; 



ENCOURAGE EMIGRATION.— Henry. 

Cast your eyes, Sir, over this extensive country — observe 
the salubrity of your climate, the variety and fertility of 
your soil — and see that soil intersected in every quarter by 
bold, navigable streams flowing to the east and to the west, 
as if the finger of Heaven were marking out the course of 
your settlements, inviting you to enterprise, and pointing the 
way to wealth. Sir, you are destined, at some time or other, 
to become a great agricultural and commercial people ; the 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 199 

only question is, whether you choose to reach this point by 
slow gradations, and at some distant period — lingering on 
through a long and sickly minority, subjected, meanwhile, to 
the machinations, insults, and oppressions of enemies, foreign 
and domestic, without sufficient strength to resist and chas- 
tise them — or whether you choose rather to rush at once, as 
it were, to the full enjoyment of those high destinies, and be 
able to cope, single-handed, with the proudest oppressor of 
the old world. 

If you prefer the latter course, as I trust you do, encour- 
age emigration — encourage the husbandman, the mechanics, 
the merchants of the old world, to come and settle in this 
land of promise — make it the home of the skillful, the indus- 
trious, the fortunate and happy, as well as the asylum of the 
distressed — fill up the measure of your population as speedily 
as you can, by the means which Heaven hath placed in your 
power — and I venture to prophesy there are those now living 
who will see this favored land among the most powerful on 
earth — able, Sir, to take care of herself, without resorting to 
that policy which is always so dangerous, though sometimes 
unavoidable, of calling in foreign aid. Yes, Sir — they will 
see her great in arts and in arms — her golden harvests wa- 
ving over fields of immeasurable extent— her commerce 
penetrating the most distant seas, and her cannon silencing 
the vain boasts of those who now proudly affect to rule the 
waves. 

But gentlemen object to any accession from Great Britain 
—and particularly to the return of the British refugees. 
Sir, I feel no objection to the return of those deluded people. 
I have no fear of any mischief that they can do us. Afraid 
of them ! — what, Sir, shall we, who have laid the proud 
British lion at our feet, now be afraid of his whelps ? 



LESSON CLI. 

CHRISTMAS TIMES.— Moore. 

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the 

house 
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse ; 
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, 
In the hope that St. Nicholas* soon would be there. 
* Santa Glaus. 



200 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

The children were nestled all snug in their beds, 

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads ; 

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, 

Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap ; 

When out on the lawn there rose such a clatter, 

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. y\ - 

Away to the window I flew like a flash, 

Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash. 

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, 

Gave the lustre of midday to objects below ; 

When what to my wondering eyes should appear, 

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny rein-deer, 

With a little old driver so lively and quick, 

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. 

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, 

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name ; 

" Now, Dasher ! now, Dancer ! now, Prancer ! now, Vixen! 

On, Comet ! on, Cupid ! on, Dunder and Blixen ! 

To the top of the porch ! to the top of the wall ! 

Now dash away ! dash away ! dash away all !" 

As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly, 

When they meet with an obstacle mount to the sky, 

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, 

With the sleigh full of toys — and St. Nicholas too. 

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, 

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof; 

As I drew in my head, and was turning around, 

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. 

He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot, 

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot ; 

A bundle of toys were flung on his back, 

And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack ; 

His eyes — how they twinkled ! his dimples how merry ! 

His cheeks were like roses, his- nose like a cherry ; 

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, 

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow ; 

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, 

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath ; 

He had a broad face, and a little round belly, 

That shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly ; 

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, 

And I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself. 

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, 

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread ; 




LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 201 

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, 
And filled all his stockings ; then turned with a jerk, 
And laying his finger aside of his nose, 
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. 
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, 
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle ; 
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, 
" Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night." 




LESSON CLII. 
THE COUNTRY OF WASHINGTON.— Webster. 

Gentlemen ; the spirit of human liberty and of free gov- 
ernment, nurtured and grown into strength and beauty in 
America, has stretched its course into the midst of the 
nations. Like an emanation from heaven, it has gone forth, 
and it will not return void. It must change, it is fast 
changing, the face of the earth. Our great, our high duty, 
is to show, in our own examples, that this spirit is a spirit of 
health as well as a spirit of power ; that its benignity is as 
great as its strength ; that its efficiency to secure individual 
rights, social relations, and moral order, is equal to the 
irresistible force with which it prostrates principalities and 
powers. The world, at this moment, is regarding us with a 
willing, but something of a fearful admiration. Its deep and 
awful anxiety is to learn, whether free states may be stable 
as well as free ; whether popular power may be trusted as 
well as feared ; in short, whether wise, regular, and virtu- 
ous self-government is a vision, for the contemplation of 
theorists, or a truth established, illustrated, and brought into 
practice, in the country of Washington. 

Gentlemen, for the earth which we inhabit, and the whole 
circle of the sun, for all the unborn races of mankind, we 
seem to hold in our hands, for their weal or woe, the fate of 
this experiment. If we fail, who shall venture the repetition? 
If our example shall prove to be one, not of encouragement, 
but of terror — not fit to be imitated, but fit only to be shun- 
ned — where else shall the world look for free models ? If 
this great Western Sun be struck out of the firmament, at 
what other fountain shall the lamp of Liberty hereafter be 
lighted ? What other orb shall emit a ray to glimmer, even, 
on the darkness of the world ? 

Gentlemen, there is no danger of our overrating, or over- 
stating, the important part which we are now acting in human 



202 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



affairs. It should not flatter our personal self-respect, but it 
should re-animate our patriotic virtues, and inspire us with a 
deeper and more solemn sense, both of our privileges and of 
our duties. We cannot wish better for our country, nor for 
the world, than that the same spirit which influenced Wash- 
ington, may influence all who succeed him ; and that that 
same blessing from above, which attended his efforts, may 
also attend theirs. 



LESSON CLIII. 
ON THE DEATH OF A BOY.— Anonymous. 

No more on earth that little hand 

With brother's love shall clasp mine own ;- 
Like bird to a far-distant land, 

That voice — to me so sweet — is flown. 

A fibre from my heart is riven ! 
A life-drop from my heart is shed ! 




The course of the first gesture begins at the word thy, its stroke coming 
upon the word spirit. There are two continuous gestures in this exam- 
ple ; the course and stroke of the first are upon the word that's, the hands 
being suspended till the utterance of the word Heaven ; the course of the 
other begins at the word 'tis, its stroke comes upon the word dust, and the 
hand falls to rest on the word that's. 

Ay ! but | thy spirit — | that's in Heaven — 
| 'Tis but the dust that's) with the dead ! 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING, 203 

I'll gaze on yon bright star, and see 

The home where thou art dwelling now — 

Methinks soft wings are fanning me — 

They soothe, they cool, my fevered brow ! 

I'll listen to the wind's soft swell, 

And fancy thine the gentle sounds ; 
They sigh not forth a sad farewell — 
Thus in my ear the murmurs dwell, 
" We'll meet where endless love abounds !" 



LESSON CLIV. 
THE AWAKENING OF THE WIND.— Anonymous. 

Hurrah ! the wind ! the mighty wind, 
Like lion from his lair upsprung, 

Hath left his Arctic home behind, 
And off his slumbers flung; 

While over lake and peaceful sea, 

With track of crested foam sweeps he. 

Hurrah ! the wind, the mighty wind, 
Hath o'er the deep his chariot driven, 

Whose waters, that in peace reclined, 
Uplash the roof of heaven ; 

Then on the quaking cliff-bound shore, 

They foaming dash with deafening roar. 

The ship loomed on the waveless sea, 
Her form was imaged in its breast, 

And beauteous of proportion she, 
As ever billow prest ; 

And graceful there as stately palm, 
She towered amid the sultry calm . 

Her flag hung moveless by the mast, 
Her sails drooped breezeless and unbent 

And oft the seaman's glance was cast 
Along the firmament, 

To note if there he might descry 

The wakening gale approaching nigh. 



204 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

On came the wind, the reckless wind, 
Fast sweeping on his furious way, 

His tempest rushing pinions brined 
In wrathful ocean's spray : 

On came the wind, and, as he past, 

The shriek of death was in the blast ! 

The tall ship by the shrouds he took, 
To shivering shreds her canvas rent, 

Then like a reed her mast he shook, 
And by the board it went ; 

While yawned the deep with hideous din, 

As if prepared to gulf her in. 

With fruitless effort on she reels, 
The giant wind is in her wake, 

The mountain billow's coil she feels 
Around her like a snake : 

Locked in that unrelenting grasp, 

She struggling sinks with stifled gasp. 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! the victor wind 
Hath swept the ocean rover down, 

And left a shipless sea behind, 
With many a corse bestrewn ; 

And swift, unfettered, strong and free, 

Like eagle on his path, speeds he ! 



LESSON CLV. 
A DEATH BED.— J. Aldrich. 

Her suffering ended with the day, 

Yet liv'd she at its close, 
And breathed the long, long night away, 

In statue-like repose. 

But when the sun, in all his state, 

Illumed the eastern skies, 
She passed through Glory's morning gate, 

And walked in Paradise ! 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER, 



PART FOURTH. 



LESSONS EXCLUSIVELY FOR READING. 





The older pupils should hold the book in the left hand, after the man- 
ner of the above Figure. Its position should be just opposite the centre 
of the breast. It should have an easy slope from the reader. It should 
never be permitted to obscure the expression of the face, nor obstruct the 
sound of the voice. The thumb should be placed on the left hand page, 
and the little finger on the right hand page ; the forefinger will come on 
the left lid, near the back of the book, and the remaining two fingers on 
the right lid. The bottom part of the book should be about six inches 
from the body. The right hand being at liberty, may be used, as occasion 
requires, in turning over the leaves, or in keeping the place, while the eye 
is directed from the book to the audience. By accomplished readers, it 
may also be employed, sparingly, in suitable gesticulation. 



18 



206 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

LESSON I. 
A NOONDAY WALK.— Barbauld. 

Come, let us go into the thick shade, for it is the noonday, 
and the summer sun beats hot upon odr heads. 

The shade is pleasant and cool ; the branches meet above 
our heads, and shut out the sun as with a green curtain ; the 
grass is soft to our feet, and the clear brook washes the roots 
of the trees. 

The sloping bank is covered with flowers ; let us lie down 
upon it ; let us throw our limbs on the fresh grass and sleep ; 
for all things are still and we are quite alone. 

The cattle can lie down to sleep in the cool shade, but we 
can do what is better ; we can praise the great God who 
made us. He made the warm sun, and the cool shade ; the 
trees that grow upward, and the brooks that run murmuring 
along. All the things that we see are His work. 

Can we raise our voices up to the high heaven ? Can we 
make Him to hear who is above the stars ? We need not 
raise our voices to the stars, for He heareth us when we onl 
whisper, when we breathe our words softly with a low voice, 
He that filleth the heavens is here also. 

The buds spread into leaves, and the blossoms swell to 
fruit, but they know not how they grow, nor who caused 
them to spring up from the bosom of the earth. Ask them 
if they will tell thee ; bid them break forth into singing, and 
fill the air with pleasant sounds. 

^They smell sweet; they look beautiful; but they are 
quite silent ; no sound is in the still air, no murmur of voices 
among the green leaves. 

The plants and the trees are made to give fruit to man, 
but man is made to praise God who made him. 

We love to praise Him, because he loveth to bless us ; we 
thank him for life, because it is a pleasant thing to be alive. 

We love God who hath created all things ; we love all 
beings, because they are the creatures of God. 

We cannot do good, as God does, to all persons every 
where ; but we can rejoice that every where there is a God 
to do them good. 

We will think of God when we play, and when we work ; 
when we walk out, and when we come in ; when we sleep, 
and when we wake ; His praise shall dwell continually upon 
our lips. 



Dt 

i 



LESSONS FOR READING. 207 

LESSON II. 

CHARITY.—Testament. 

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, 
and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a 
tinkling cymbal. 

And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand 
all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, 
so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I 
am nothing. 

And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and 
though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, 
it profiteth me nothing. 

Charity sufFereth long, and is kind ; charity envieth not ; 
charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, 

Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is 
not easily provoked, thinketh no evil : 

Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth ; 

Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, 
endureth all things. 

Charity never faileth : but whether there be prophecies, 
they shall fail ; whether there be tongues, they shall cease ; 
whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. 

For we know in part, and we prophecy in part. 

But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is 
in part shall be done away. 

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a 
child, I thought as a child ; but when I became a man, I put 
away childish things. 

For now we see through a glass darkly ; but then we 
shall see face to face ; now I know in part ; but then shall I 
know even also as I am known. 

And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three ; but the 
greatest of these is charity. 



LESSON III. 

THE RAINBOW.— Sturm. 



When the sun reflects its rays on drops of water which 
fall from the clouds, and we are placed with our backs to 



208 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

the sun, and with the clouds opposite to us, we observe a 
rainbow. We may consider the drops of rain as little trans- 
parent balls, on which the rays fall and are refracted. 
From thence proceed the colors in the rainbow. They are 
seven in number ; and in the following order : red, orange, 
yellow, green, blue, purple and violet. These colors appear 
so much the more lively, according as the cloud behind is 
darker, and the drops of rain fall the closer. The drops 
falling continually, produce a new rainbow every moment, 
and as each spectator has his particular situation, from 
whence he observes this phenomenon, it so happens, that two 
men cannot, properly speaking, see the same rainbow. This 
meteor can only last while the rain continues to fall. To 
consider a rainbow merely as a phenomenon of nature, it is 
one of the finest sights imaginable. It is a picture the most 
beautifully colored of any the Creator has given us. There 
cannot be a rainbow when it rains over the whole horizon. 
Every time, then, that this beautiful meteor appears, we 
may be certain that we have no deluge to apprehend, as in a 
deluge it must rain violently from every part of the sky. 
Thus when the sky is only covered with clouds on one side, 
and the sun appears on the other, it is a sign that these dark 
clouds will disperse, and that the sky will soon become se- 
rene. This is also the reason why we cannot see a rainbow 
unless the sun is behind us, and the rain opposite to us. 

The sun and the rain must appear at the same time, to 
form a rainbow. No colors would be seen if the sky was 
too light ; therefore, where it appears, the horizon must be 
covered with dark clouds. Neither could the colors of the 
rainbow exist without the refraction of the rays of the sun 
upon it. 



LESSON IV. 
NIGHT'S LESSONS.— Mrs. Sigourney. 

Night's lessons! What are they? My son, one of these, 
you may learn in a moment. Did you say, that all will soon 
be sleeping ? No. There is one Eye, that never slumbers. 
He who made all the people, keepeth watch above the ever- 
lasting hills. Commit yourself to His care. 



LESSONS FOR READING. 209 

Now, will you learn with me, the second lesson of the 
night ? Lift your eyes to yon glorious canopy. Seest thou 
not there, a sentinel, set by the Eternal, at the northern gate 
of heaven ? The pole-star ! 

The pole-star ! Blessings are breathed upon it, by the 
weary caravan, fearing the poisonous wind of the desert, — 
by the red forest-children, seeking their home, beyond the 
far western prairies,— and by the lonely mariner, upon the 
pathless ocean. 

The stars ! See them ! The oil in their lamps never 
burns out. These glorious constellations, wheel their mighty 
course unchanged, while man dieth and wasteth away ; man 
giveth up the ghost, and where is he? 

These brilliant orbs maintain their places, while countless 
generations pass away, and nations disappear and are for- 
gotten. Let us bow in humility before Him, who " bringeth 
out their host by number, who calleth them all by name, 
through the greatness of his might, for that He is strong in 
power, not one faileth." 

Thirteen times in the year, Night, the Teacher, gives ex- 
tra lessons. Will you be there, to learn them ? 

First, she hangs up a pale crescent in the west. The 
ancient Jews hailed its infant beam, and answering fires of 
joy were kindled on the hills of Palestine. 

Next, she summons forth a rounded orb, clad in full efful- 
gence, and commits to it the regency, when the sun retires. 
Lastly, a slender, waning crescent appears nightly, like an 
aged man, ready to descend into the night of the tomb. 

" Soon as the evening shades prevail, 
The moon takes up the wondrous tale, 
And nightly to the listening earth, 
Repeats the story of her birth : 
While all the stars that round her burn, 
And all the planets in their turn, 
Confirm the tidings as they roll, 
And spread the truth from pole to pole." 

These are some of Night's lessons. Are you tired of 
them ? Or will you learn one more ? Lift up your heart to 
Him who has given you the past day, with thanks for its 
blessings,— with penitence for its faults, — with supplication 
for strength and wisdom, for the time that is to come. 

"Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night, 
18* 



210 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

showeth knowledge of God." Thus meekly and faithfully 
studying Night's lessons, may we find, 

" That darkness shows us worlds of light, 
We never saw by day. 55 



LESSON V. 
THE BLESSEDNESS OF HEAVEN.— Barbauld. 

The rose is sweet, but it is surrounded with thorns : the 
lily of the valley is fragrant, but it springeth up among the 
brambles. 

The spring is pleasant, but it is soon past ; the summer is 
bright, but the winter destroyeth the beauty thereof. 

The rainbow is very glorious, but it soon vanisheth away ; 
life is good, but it is quickly swallowed up in death. 

There is a land where the roses are without thorns, where 
the flowers are not mixed with brambles. In that land there 
is eternal spring, and light without any cloud. 

The tree of life groweth in the midst thereof; rivers of 
pleasure are there, and flowers that never fade. 

Myriads of happy spirits are there, and surround the 
throne of God with a perpetual hymn. 

The angels, with their golden harps, sing praises continu- 
ally, and the cherubims fly on wings of fire ! 

This country is heaven, it is the country of those that are 
good, and nothing that is wicked must inhabit there. 

This earth is pleasant, for it is God's earth, and it is filled 
with many delightful things. 

But that country is far better ; there we shall not grieve 
any more, nor be sick any more, nor do wrong any more ; 
there the cold of winter shall not wither us, nor the heats of 
summer scorch us. 

In that country there are no wars nor quarrels, but all 
love one another with dear love. 

When our parents and friends die, and are laid in the cold 
ground, we see them here no more ; but there we shall em- 
brace them again, and live with them, and be separated no 
more. 

There we shall meet all good men, whom we read of in 
holy books. 

There we shall see Abraham the called of God, the father 



LESSONS FOR READING. 211 

of the faithful ; and Moses, after his long wandering in the 
Arabian desert; and Elijah, the prophet of God ; and Dan- 
iel, who escaped the lion's den ; and the son of Jesse, the 
shepherd king, the sweet singer of Israel. 

They loved God on earth ; they praised Him on earth ; 
but in that country they will praise Him better, and love Him 
more. 

There we shall see Jesus, who is gone before us to that 
happy place ; and there we shall behold the glory of the 
High God. 

We cannot see him here, but we will love Him here ; we 
must now be on earth, but we will often think on heaven. 

That happy land is our home ; we are to be here but for 
a little while, and there forever, even for ages of eternal 
years. 



LESSON VI. 

PROFANE SWEARING— Wood. 

Of all the vicious habits to which children are liable, in 
common with those of more advanced years, that of profane 
swearing is, at once, one of the most impious and daring — 
the most low and degrading — the most senseless and inexcu- 
sable. Yet, in walking our streets, how often, alas ! are our 
ears assailed with this most profane and disgusting language. 
Surely a single moment's reflection ought to be sufficient to 
convince even the youngest, and most thoughtless and incon- 
siderate offender of this description, of the heavy guilt, as well 
as extreme folly of such conduct. It is a vice obviously 
directed against the Majesty of Heaven itself — against that 
High and Holy Being, who hath himself given us his most 
positive commandment to swear not at all, neither by heaven, 
neither by the earth, neither by any other oath ; and hath at 
the same time given us his most solemn warning, that he will 
not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain, and that 
for every idle word which we shall speak, he will call us 
into judgment. And while the language in question is thus 
highly offensive to God, it is, at the same time, most disgust- 
ing to every well-regulated mind. Those even, who them- 
selves are addicted to this most degrading vice, are not al- 
ways the last to feel horror and disgust when they hear the 



212 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

same, or similar language in the lips of an associate. It is 
the habitual language only of the profligate and the aban- 
doned — the language of those lawless bands who set God 
and man alike at defiance. In many it is a habit acquired 
from evil company in early youth, which has grown with 
their growth, and strengthened with their strength. Let this 
be an additional inducement to children, to be ever upon 
their guard against the first inroads of this pernicious habit, 
which, when it has acquired the ascendency, they may not 
in mature years, find it so easy to shake off, even when be- 
held in all its hideous deformity. 



LESSON VII. 

THE HORSE.— Anonymous. 

Horses are so extremely useful to mankind, that they are 
naturally objects of great interest to us. 

Of all quadruped animals, the horse is the most beautiful ; 
but to judge fairly of the graceful ease of his motions, we 
should view this animal in those wild countries where nature 
placed him, and where he bounds across the plains unfettered 
by bit or bridle. 

Horses, in their wild state, are very inoffensive, and do not 
make war against any other race of animals ; they are found 
in various parts of Africa, particularly the southern part, 
near the Cape of Good Hope. The most beautiful horses 
come from Arabia. 

There are very extensive plains in South America, called 
the Pampas, where there are large troops of wild Horses. 
The inhabitants of these plains are capital horsemen ; the 
children are accustomed to ride as early as four years old. 

They generally perform their journeys on horseback, and 
if the uorse on which they are mounted is tired, they catch 
a fresh one from the troops around. This is done by means 
of a lasso, a long piece of rope made of strips of leather, 
with a loop or noose at the end, which they throw over the 
animal's head : the noose is made with a slip-knot, which 
becomes tighter when the horse struggles for liberty. The 
horses when first mounted, always kick at any one who goes 
behind them, and it is sometimes very difficult to fasten a 
saddle and bridle on them. When properly broken in, they 



LESSONS FOR READING. 213 

are not vicious, and will allow children to mount by climbing 
up their tails. Though endowed with very great strength, 
the disposition of this noble animal is so mild and gentle, 
that he rarely uses his strength to his master's prejudice ; on 
the contrary, he will endure fatigue, and even death itself, for 
the benefit of those who have treated them kindly. 

The following story, showing what exertion the horse is 
capable of undergoing, would be almost incredible, were it 
not well authenticated. 

Many years ago, a violent gale of wind setting in from 
north-northwest, a vessel in the road at the Cape of Good 
Hope dragged her anchors, was forced on the rocks, and 
bilged ; and while the greater part of the crew fell an imme- 
diate sacrifice to the waves, the remainder were seen from 
the shore, struggling for their lives, by clinging to the differ- 
ent pieces of the wreck. The sea ran dreadfully high, and 
broke over the sailors with such amazing fury, that no boat 
whatever could venture off to their assistance. 

Meanwhile, a planter, considerably advanced in life, had 
come on horseback from his farm to be a spectator of the 
shipwreck. His heart was melted at the sight of the unhap- 
py seamen, and knowing the bold and enterprising spirit of 
his horse, and his particular excellence as a swimmer, he 
instantly determined to make a desperate effort for their de- 
liverance. 

He alighted and blew a little brandy into his horse's nos- 
trils, when, again seating himself in the saddle, he instantly 
pushed into the midst of the breakers. At first both disap- 
peared, but it was not long before they floated on the surface 
and swam up to the wreck ; when, taking with him two men, 
each of whom held by one of his boots, the planter brought 
them safe to shore. 

This perilous expedition he repeated seven times, and saved 
fourteen lives. But on his return the eighth time, his horse 
being much fatigued, and meeting a most formidable wave, 
he lost his balance, and was overwhelmed in a moment. The 
horse swam safely to the shore, but his gallant rider was no 
more ! 



LESSON VIII. 

HUMANITY.— Anonymous. 

During the retreat of the famous king Alfred at Athelney, 
in Somersetshire, after the defeat of his forces by the Danes, 



214 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

the following circumstance happened, which shows the ex- 
tremities to which that great man was reduced, and gives a 
striking proof of his pious and benevolent disposition. A 
beggar came to his little castle and requested alms. His 
queen informed him that they had only one small loaf remain- 
ing, which was insufficient for themselves and their friends, 
who were gone abroad in quest of food, though with little 
hopes of success. But the king replied, " Give the poor 
Christian the one-half of the loaf. He that could feed five 
thousand with five loaves and two fishes, can certainly make 
that half of the loaf suffice for more than our necessities." 
Accordingly the poor man was relieved ; and this noble act 
of charity was soon recompensed by a providential store of 
fresh provisions, with which his people returned. 

Sir Philip Sidney, at the battle near Zutphen, displayed 
the most undaunted courage. He had two horses killed 
under him ; and while mounting a third, was wounded by a 
musket-shot out of the trenches, which broke the bone of his 
thigh. He returned about a mile and a half on horseback 
to the camp ; and being faint with the loss of blood, and 
parched with thirst through the heat of the weather, he called 
for drink. It was presently brought him ; but as he was 
putting the vessel to his mouth, a poor wounded soldier, who 
happened to be carried along at that instant, looked up to it 
with wishful eyes. The gallant and generous Sidney took 
the flagon from his lips, just when he was going to drink, 
and delivered it to the soldier, saying, " Thy necessity is 
greater than mine." 

Frederick, king of Prussia, one day rang his bell, and 
nobody answered ; on which he opened his door, and found 
his page fast asleep in an elbow-chair. He advanced toward 
him, and was going to awaken him, when he perceived a 
letter hanging out of his pocket. His curiosity prompting to 
know what it was, he took it out and read it. It was a letter 
from this young man's mother, in which she thanked him 
for having sent her part of his wages to relieve her in her 
misery, and finished with telling him that God would reward 
him for his dutiful affection. The king, after having read 
it, went back softly into his chamber, took a bag full of 
ducats, and slipped it with the letter into the page's pocket. 
Returning to his chamber, he rang the bell so violently that 
he awakened the page, who instantly made his appearance. 
" You have had a sound sleep," said the king. The page 
was at a loss how to excuse himself, and, putting his hand 



LESSONS FOR READING. 215 

into his pocket by chance, to his utter astonishment he there 
found a purse of ducats. He took it out, turned pale, and 
looking at the bag, burst into tears, without being able to 
utter a single word. "What is that?" said the king; 
" what is the matter ?" " Ah, Sire !" said the young man, 
throwing himself on his knees, " somebody seeks my ruin ! 
I know nothing of this money which I have just found in my 
pocket!" 

"My young friend," replied Frederick, "God often does 
great things for us even in our sleep. Send that to your 
mother, salute her on my part, and assure her that I will 
take care of both her and you." 



LESSON IX. 
IMPROVE THE INTELLECT.— Barbauld. 

Look at that spreading oak, the pride of the village green ! 
its trunk is massy, its branches are strong. Its roots, like 
crooked fangs, strike deep into the soil, and support its huge 
bulk. The birds build among the boughs ; the cattle repose 
beneath its shade; the neighbors form groups beneath the 
shelter of its green canopy. The old men point it out to 
their children, but they themselves remember not its growth ; 
generations of men, one after another, have been born and 
died, and this son of the forest has remained* the same, defy- 
ing the storms of two hundred winters. 

Yet this large tree was once a little acorn ; small in size, 
insignificant in appearance ; such as you are now picking 
up upon the grass beneath it. 

Such an acorn, whose cup can only contain a drop or two 
of dew, contained the whole oak. All its massy trunk, all 
its knotted branches, all its multitude of leaves were in that 
acorn ; it grew, it spread, it unfolded itself by degrees, it 
received nourishment from the rain, and the dews, and the 
well adapted soil, but it was all there. Rain, and dews, and 
soil, could not raise an oak without the acorn ; nor could 
they make the acorn any thing but an oak. 

The mind of a child is like the acorn ; its powers are fold- 
ed up, they do not yet appear, but they are all there. The 
memory, the judgment, the invention, the feeling of right 
and wrong, are all in the mind of a child ; of a little infant 



216 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

just born ; but they are not expanded, you cannot perceive 
them. 

Think of the wisest man you ever knew or heard of; 
think of the greatest man ; think of the most learned man, 
who speaks a number of languages, and can find out hidden 
things ; think of a man who stands like that tree, sheltering 
and protecting a number of his fellow men, and then say to 
yourself, the mind of that man was once like mine — his 
thoughts were childish like my thoughts, nay, he was like 
the babe just born, which knows nothing, remembers nothing, 
which cannot distinguish good from evil, nor truth from 
falsehood. 

If you had only seen an acorn, you could never guess at 
the form and size of an oak ; if you had never conversed 
with a wise man, you could form no idea of him from the 
mute and helpless infant. 

Instruction is the food of the mind ; it is like the dew and 
the rain and the rich soil. As the soil and the rain and the 
dew cause the tree to swell and put forth its tender shoots, so 
do books and study and discourse feed the mind, and make it 
unfold its hidden powers. 

Reverence therefore your own mind ; receive the nurture 
of instruction, that the man within you may grow and flour- 
ish. You cannot guess how excellent he may become. 

It was long before this oak showed its greatness ; year 
after year passed away, and it had only shot a little way 
above the ground ; a child might have plucked it up with his 
little hands ; it was long before any one called it a tree ; and 
it is long before the child becomes a man. 

The acorn might have perished in the ground, the young 
tree might have been shorn of its graceful boughs, the twig 
might have bent, and the tree would have been crooked, but 
if it grew at all, it could have been nothing but an oak, it 
would not have been grass or flowers, which live their sea- 
son, and then perish from the face of the earth. 

The child may be a foolish man, he may be a wicked 
man, but he must be a man ; his nature is not that of any in- 
ferior creature, his soul is not akin to the beasts which perish. 

O, cherish then this precious mind, feed it wiih truth, 
nourish it with knowledge ; it comes from God, it is made in 
his image ; the oak will last for centuries of years, but the 
mind of man is made for immortality. 

Respect in the infant the future man. Destroy not in the 
man the rudiments of an angel. 




LESSONS FOR READING. 217 



LESSON X. 

DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MAN AND THE INFERIOR ANI- 
MALS.— Taylor. 

The chief difference between man and the other animals 
consists in this, that the former has reason, whereas the lat- 
ter have only instinct ; but in order to understand what we 
mean by the terms reason and instinct, it will be necessary 
to mention three things, in which the difference very distinctly 
appears. 

Let us first, to bring the parties as near on a level as pos- 
sible, consider man in a savage state, wholly occupied like 
the beasts of the field, in providing for the wants of his ani- 
mal nature ; and here the first distinction that appears be- 
tween him and the creatures around him is, the use of imple- 
merits. When the savage provides himself with a hut, or a 
wigwam, for shelter, or that he may store up his provisions, 
he does no more than is done by the rabbit, the beaver, the 
bee, and birds of every species. But the man cannot make 
any progress in this work without tools ; he must provide 
himself with an axe even before he can lop down a tree for 
its timber ; whereas these animals form their burrows, their 
cells, or their nests, with no other tools than those with which 
nature has provided them. In cultivating the ground, also, 
man can do nothing without a spade or a plow, nor can he 
reap what he has sown till he has shaped an implement with 
which to cut down his harvests. But the inferior animals 
provide for themselves and their young without any of these 
things. 

Now for the second distinction. Man in all his operations 
makes mistakes ; animals make none. Did you ever hear of 
such a thing as a bird sitting disconsolate on a twig, lament- 
ing over her half-finished nest, and puzzling her little poll to 
know how to complete it ? Or did you ever see the cells of a 
bee-hive in clumsy irregular shapes, or observe any thing 
like a discussion in the little community, as if there were a 
difference of opinion among the architects 1 

The lower animals are even better physicians than we are ; 
for when they are ill, they will, many of them, seek out 
some particular herb which they do not use as food, and 
which possesses a medicinal quality exactly suited to the 
complaint ; whereas the whole college of physicians will 
dispute for a century about the virtues of a single drug. 

19 



218 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Man undertakes nothing in which he is not more or less puz- 
zled ; he must try numberless experiments before he can 
bring his undertakings to any thing like perfection ; even the 
simplest operations of domestic life are not well performed 
without some experience ; and the term of man's life is half 
wasted before he has done with his mistakes, and begins to 
profit by his lessons. 

The third distinction is, that animals make no improvements ; 
while the knowledge, and the skill, and the success of man 
are perpetually on the increase. Animals, in all their ope- 
rations, follow the first impulse of nature, or that instinct 
which God has implanted in them. In all they do undertake 
therefore, their works are more perfect and regular than 
those of men. But man, having been endowed with the 
faculty of thinking or reasoning about what he does, is ena- 
bled by patience and industry to correct the mistakes into 
which he at first falls, and to go on constantly improving. A 
bird's nest is, indeed, a perfect and beautiful structure ; yet 
the nest of a swallow of the nineteenth century is not at all 
more commodious or elegant than those that were built 
amid the rafters of Noah's ark. But if we compare the 
wigwam of the savage with the temples and palaces of an- 
cient Greece and Rome, we shall then see to what man's 
mistakes, rectified and improved upon, conduct him. 



LESSON XI. 

THE APOSTLE PAUL'S DEFENSE.— Testament. 

Then Agrippa said unto Paul, Thou art permitted to speak 
for thyself. Then Paul stretched forth the hand and answer- 
ed for himself. 

I think myself happy, king Agrippa, because I shall 
answer for myself this day before thee, touching all the 
things whereof I am accused of the Jews ; 

Especially, because I know thee to be expert in all cus- 
toms and questions which are among the Jews : wherefore I 
beseech thee to hear me patiently. 

My manner of life from my youth, which was at first 
among mine own nation at Jerusalem, know all the Jews ; 

Which knew me from the beginning, (if they would testi- 
fy,) that, after the most rigid sect of our religion, I lived a 
Pharisee. 




LESSONS FOR READING. 219 

And now I stand and am judged for the hope of the prom- 
se made of God unto our fathers : 

Unto which promise our twelve tribes, instantly serving 
God day and night, hope to come : for which hope's sake, 
king Agrippa, I am accused of the Jews. 

Why should it be thought a thing incredible with you, that 
God should raise the dead ? 

I verily thought with myself, that I ought to do many 
things contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth. 

Which thing I also did in Jerusalem ; and many of the 
saints did I shut up in prison, having received authority 
from the chief priests, and when they were put to death, I 
gave my voice against them. 

And I punished them oft in every synagogue, and com- 
pelled them to blaspheme ; and, being exceedingly mad 
against them, I persecuted them even unto strange cities. 

Whereupon, as I went to Damascus with authority and 
commission from the chief priests, 

At mid-day, O king, I saw in the way a light from heaven, 
above the brightness of the sun, shining round about me, 
and them which journeyed with me. 

And when we were fallen to the earth, I heard a voice 
speaking unto me, and saying in the Hebrew tongue, Saul, 
Saul, why persecutest thou me ? It is hard for thee to kick 
against the pricks. 

And I said, Who art thou, Lord ? And he said, I am Jesus, 
whom thou persecutest. 

But rise, and stand upon thy feet, for I have appeared un- 
to thee for this purpose, to make thee a minister and a wit- 
ness, both of these things which thou hast seen, and of those 
things in which I will appear unto thee, 

Delivering thee from the people, and from the Gentiles, 
unto whom now I send thee, 

To open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to 
light, and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may 
receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them 
which are sanctified by faith that is in me. 

Whereupon, O king Agrippa, I was not disobedient unto 
the heavenly vision : 

But shewed first unto them of Damascus, and at Jerusa- 
lem, and throughout all the coasts of Judea, and then to the 
Gentiles, that they should repent and turn to God, and do 
works meet for repentance. 

For these causes the Jews caught me in the temple, and 
went about to kill me. 



220 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Having, therefore, obtained help of God, I continue unto 
this day, witnessing both to small and great, saying none 
other things than those which the prophets and Moses did 
say should come : 

That Christ should suffer, and that he should be the first 
that should rise from the dead, and should show light unto 
the people, and to the Gentiles. 

And as he thus spake for himself, Festus said with a loud 
voice, Paul, thou art beside thyself; much learning doth 
make thee mad. 

But he said, I am not mad, most noble Festus ; but speak 
forth the words of truth and soberness. 

For the king knoweth of these things, before whom also I 
speak freely ; for I am persuaded that none of these things 
are hidden from him ; for this thing was not done in a corner. 

King Agrippa, belie vest thou the prophets ? I know that 
thou believest. 

Then Agrippa said unto Paul, Almost thou persuadest me 
to be a Christian. 

And Paul said, I would to God, that not only thou, but also 
all that hear me this day, were both almost and altogether 
such as I am, except these bonds. 

And when he had thus spoken, the king rose up, and the 
governor, and Bernice, and they that sat with them. 

And when they were gone aside, they talked between 
themselves, saying, This man doeth nothing worthy of death, 
or of bonds. 

Then said Agrippa unto Festus, This man might have 
been set at liberty, if he had not appealed unto Csesar. 



LESSON XII. 

LYING.— Wood. 

It is of the utmost importance, my young friends, that you 
should always speak the truth. If you have the happiness 
to acquire this good habit now, while you are young, it will 
probably continue with you afterwards ; but if at present 
you do not scruple to tell lies and to deceive, what can be 
expected, but that you will become more and more deceitful 
as you grow older ? When you have done any wrong, you 
may perhaps be tempted to conceal it, by telling a lie to your 
parents or masters. But be on your guard against any such 



LESSONS FOR READING. 221 

artifice. It would be adding one fault to another, and so 
your conduct would be worse than before, Besides, if you 
make an honest confession, it is probable that the less notice 
will be taken of your fault ; whereas, if it be found that you 
have committed a fault, and have endeavored to conceal it by 
falsehood, your punishment ought to be, and probably will be 
the severer. If you wish to be free from the temptation to 
conceal your faults by falsehood, study to commit as few 
faults as you can. Be attentive to your lessons and to your 
work. Avoid mischievous tricks and disorderly behavior : 
and be careful to obey your parents and your masters. If 
your companions be bad and unprincipled, they will perhaps 
desire you to conceal their faults by telling lies ; and, if you 
do not, they will reproach you, and call you tell-tales. It is, 
to be sure, very ill-natured, and very mean, to be always on 
the watch to discover faults, and, when they are discovered, 
to be eager to let them be known ; but, when a question 
about the behavior of others is put to you, you should either 
be silent, or tell the plain and simple truth. In short, what- 
ever be the circumstances that might tempt you to falsify, 
never yield to them. Falsehood is the mark of a mean and 
despicable spirit. If it should sometimes screen you from 
any inconvenience, and sometimes bring you a little gain, it 
would be an advantage not worth having ; and you would 
not obtain even that advantage long. Persons who tell lies 
cannot fail to have their falsehood detected, and then nobody 
will believe them or trust them. Falsehood, besides, is the 
source of many other vices ; it renders the character alto- 
gether hollow and heartless, and would at last sink you 
down in worthlessness and contempt. Consider, on the other 
hand, the advantages of truth. What think you of the satis- 
faction of your own minds ? Will it not be very pleasant 
for you to reflect, that you have not descended to so mean a 
thing as falsehood ? Is it not pleasant also to gain the esteem 
of others ? And what is more estimable than truth ? What 
can we say more honorable of any boy or girl, of any man 
or woman, than when we say, " This is one who may be 
trusted in every thing, and who scorns to deceive ?" You are 
young, and perhaps you do not yet know the comforts and 
advantages of a good character ; but believe me, if, by the 
blessing of God, the foundation be now laid of an upright 
and sincere character through life, you will all your days 
have cause to rejoice, that you were early taught to scorn a 
lie, and to love the truth. Above all, remember what is said 
19* 



222 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

respecting falsehood in the word of God. You are told in 
the book of Proverbs, that lying lips are an abomination to 
the Lord ; and in the Book of Revelation, that whosoever 
loveth and maketh a lie, cannot enter into heaven. Lay to 
heart, my young friends, these impressive declarations, and 
never forget, that, unless you love truth, and hate every false 
way, you cannot please God, nor be received into his glorious 
kingdom. 



LESSON XIII. 
LORD WILLIAM.— Southey. 

No eye beheld when William plunged 
Young Edmund in the stream : 

No human ear but William's heard 
Young Edmund's drowning scream. 

Submissive all the vassals owned 
The murderer for their lord ; 

And he, as rightful heir, possessed 
The house of Erlingford. 

The ancient house of Erlingford, 

Stood in a fair domain ; 
And Severn's ample waters near, 

Rolled through the fertile plain. 

But never could Lord William dare 
To gaze on Severn's stream ; 

In every wind that swept its waves 
He heard young Edmund's scream ! 

In vain, at midnight's silent hour, 
Sleep closed the murderer's eyes ; 

In every dream the murderer saw 
Young Edmund's form arise ! 

— Slow were the passing hours, yet swift 
The months appeared to roll ; 

And now the day returned, that shook 
With terror William's soul — 
4 



LESSONS FOR READING. 223 

A day that William never felt 

Return without dismay ; 
For well had conscience calendared 

Young Edmund's dying day. 

A fearful day was that ! the rains 

Fell fast with tempest roar, 
And the swollen tide of Severn spread 

Far on the level shore. 

In vain Lord William sought the feast, 

In vain he quaffed the bowl, 
And strove with noisy mirth to drown 

The anguish of his soul. 

Reluctant now, as night came on, 

His lonely couch he pressed ; 
And, wearied out, he sunk to sleep, — - 

To sleep — but not to rest. 

Beside that couch his brother's form, 

Lord Edmund, seemed to stand, — 
Such, and so pale, as when in death 

He grasped his brother's hand ; 

Such, and so pale his face, as when 

With faint and faltering tongue, 
To William's care a dying charge, 

He left his orphan son. 

" I bade thee with a father's love 
My orphan Edmund guard — 
Well, William, hast thou kept thy charge ! 
Now take thy due reward." 

He started up, each limb convulsed 

With agonizing fear ; — 
He only heard the storm of night, — 

; Twas music to his ear. 

When lo ! the voice of loud alarm 
His inmost soul appals ; 
" What, ho ! Lord William, rise in haste ; 
The water saps thy walls !" 



224 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

He rose in haste, — beneath the walls 

He saw the flood appear ; 
It hemmed him round, — 'twas midnight now — 

No human aid was near. 

He heard the shout of joy ! for now 

A boat approached the wall ; 
And eager to the welcome aid 

They crowd for safety all. 

"My boat is small," the boatman cried, 
" 'Twill bear but one away ; 
Come in, Lord William, and do ye 
In God's protection stay." 

The boatman plied the oar, the boat 

Went light along the stream ; 
Sudden Lord William heard a cry 

Like Edmund's drowning scream. 

The boatman paused, — " Methought I heard 
A child's distressful cry !" 
" J Twas but the howling winds of night," 
Lord William made reply. 

" Haste ! — haste ! — ply swift and strong the oar ! 
Haste ! — haste across the stream !" 
Again Lord William heard a cry 
Like Edmund's drowning scream. 

" I heard a child's distressful scream," 

The boatman cried again ; 
" Nay, hasten on ! — the night is dark — 

And we should search in vain. 

" And, oh ! Lord William dost thou know 
How dreadful 'tis to die ? 
And canst thou, without pitying, hear 
A child's expiring cry 1 

" How horrible it is to sink 
Beneath the chilly stream ! 
To stretch the powerless arms in vain ! 
In vain for help to scream !" 



LESSONS FOR READING. 

The shriek again was heard. It came 
More deep, more piercing loud ; — 

That instant o'er the flood, ihe moon 
Shone through a broken cloud : 

And near them they beheld a child ; 

Upon a crag he stood — 
A little crag, and all around 

Was spread the rising flood. 

The boatman plied the oar, the boat 

Approached his resting-place : 
The moonbeam shone upon the child, 

And showed how pale his face. 

" Now reach thine hand !" the boatman cried, 
" Lord William, reach and save !" 
The child stretched forth his little hands 
To grasp the hand he gave. 

Then William shrieked ; — the hand he touched 

Was cold, and damp, and dead ! 
He felt young Edmund in his arms, 

A heavier weight than lead ! 

The boat sunk down — the murderer sunk 

Beneath th' avenging stream ; 
He rose — he shrieked — no human ear 

Heard William's drowning scream. 



225 



LESSON XIV, 



THE WAR OF THE REVOLUTION. 

Before the people who came from England landed here, 
this whole country was all a wilderness. No bridges were 
made over any of the streams ; no roads, nor any houses, ex- 
cept Indian wigwams. There was no plow, nor hoe, nor 
spinning-wheel, nor loom, nor saw-mill, nor grist-mill in this 
whole region. 

Thousands of deer and bears, wolves, buffaloes, mooses, 
foxes, beavers, rabbits, and other animals, were running wild 



226 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

in the woods : but with all the fur in the country, the Indians 
did not know how to make a single hat. 

They commonly settled near a river, for the sake of fish ; 
or by the sea-shore, where they could catch lobsters, and 
oysters, and clams. All the hard work was done by their 
women. The men loved hunting, which they carried on with 
clubs, or bows and arrows. 

Instead of living together like a band of brothers, through 
the whole country, they were divided into small tribes, enga- 
ged half the time in war, and murdering each other. They 
were as faithful to their friends as the best white people ; 
but very cruel indeed to their enemies. As to reading and 
writing, these Indians did not know one letter from another ; 
and so they were called savages. 

Such was the condition of this country when the first 
ship-load of Englishmen came to Virginia, in 1607 ; and thir- 
teen years afterward, another company to Plymouth, in 
Massachusetts. These people had to cut down trees, dig up 
stumps by the roots, and in a little time began to build them- 
selves houses, and then churches and school-houses. 

It was agreed that the king of England should be king 
of this country : but the people here were to worship God in 
their own way, and to be free. These conditions were writ- 
ten down on pieces of paper, with the king's name signed to 
them, and given to those who settled in different places here, 
in North America. These papers were called royal char- 
ters. The settlements made according to these charters, 
were called British colonies or provinces. 

For about one hundred and fifty years the colonies con- 
tinued in this way, working hard, and suffering many evils. 
One English king after another passed away, and a new king 
was seated on the throne. In these American colonies, the 
people grew old and died ; their children became men and 
women, and took their places, under the same royal char- 
ters. 

King George the Third received the crown of Great 
Britain, at the death of his grandfather. He had a set of 
men, called his ministers, or counsellors, to help him con- 
trive plans, and govern his kingdom. They attempted to 
make the people of this country pay taxes to them. Many 
other acts they did contrary to the rights of our people. 

This conduct dissatisfied the Americans. They said, 
" If King George can compel us, against our will, to use paper 
with his stamp upon it, and make us pay a tax for that stamp ; 



LESSONS FOR READING. 227 

and if he can make us pay him three pence, sterling money, 
for each pound of tea we use, and which he has no right to ; 
by the same rule he might take our cattle from us, or drive 
us from our farms." 

They said, " the British government has no right to tax 
this country : we have a right to be free : we will be free ; 
and we will not pay this tax." 

When the king and his counsellors were told what the 
Americans had determined, they were greatly offended. 
The men called the Lords, and others called the Commons, 
five or six hundred of them in all, met with the ministers at 
the Parliament House, in London, and made a declaration, 
that they had a right to pass laws to compel the Americans 
to do whatever they said. 

The news of this affair came across the Atlantic by the 
first ship to this country, and our people began to prepare for 
very serious difficulties. They chose their wisest men to 
meet and agree, in behalf of the people, on what was proper 
to be done. 

These men wrote to the king, saying they thought that 
the persons about his palace, whom he listened to, did not 
know the particulars of our affairs, and were filling his ears 
with very wrong stories. At the same time, they also wrote 
letters to the inhabitants of England, Scotland, and Ireland, 
and said they hoped the people there would not help the 
king's bad advisers to practice their unjust and cruel schemes 
against the Americans. 

But for fear of the worst, the colonists prepared, as well 
as they could, to take care of themselves. They collected 
powder and bullets, guns and swords, fifes and drums, so that 
if the king's armies should attempt to kill them, or chain them 
and make them slaves, they could defend themselves. 

The kind's officers and soldiers, with their red coats, 
came over in great numbers, to force us to submit. The 
British army took possession of Boston, and sent a party of 
soldiers out about twenty miles, to take the powder and other 
things which the Americans had collected at Concord. 

By the way, they met with a company of American mi- 
litia, at Lexington, paraded on the green, by the meeting, 
house. The British fired upon these, and killed eight men 
on the spot. A number of others were badly wounded. 

I This affair happened the 19th of April, in the year 1775. 
The war was now begun, and both parties exerted them- 
selves with great vigor. Many bloody actions took place. 



228 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Our people again chose their ablest men to meet and devise 
the best plans in their power to promote the American cause. 

This meeting of wise and good men was called the Con- 
gress. The first important thing they did was to appoint that 
most noble of men, George Washington, to be general-in- 
chief of all the armies which could be raised to defend this 
country. 

After many battles and great sufferings, brought upon 
these colonies by the British troops, the Congress, at Philadel- 
phia, determined to make a bold stand in behalf of our coun- 
trymen, and to tell all the world what they meant to do. 

They chose five of their best scholars to draw up a wri- 
ting, on a large sheet of paper ; and, in that writing, they said 
the king of England had done many wrongs toward the 
Americans : he had reigned over them like a tyrant, and not 
like a father ; and they could no longer bear such treatment. 

They said that from that time, each of the thirteen colonies 
should be a free state : they should be united to defend their 
rights ; they should form a nation by themselves, and have a 
government of their own, and make their own laws, and the 
king of Great Britain should no longer be the king of this 
country. They appealed to all nations, and to the God of 
heaven and earth, for the justice of their cause. 

Fifty-six members of Congress signed their names to this 
paper, and pledged their lives, their fortunes, and sacred 
honor, to make the proceeding stand good. This writing was 
called the Declaration of American Independence. It was 
dated the 4th day of July, in the year 1776. 

The war now raged in a terrible manner, and vast num. 
bers on both sides were slaughtered. The king of Great 
Britain hired in Germany 17,000 soldiers, called the Hes- 
sians, to come here and help his men to conquer this country. 

Our people defended themselves with singular bravery ; 
and in the year 1778, Dr. Franklin went to Paris and agreed 
with Louis XVI, king of France, to send a French fleet and 
army here, to assist in defending the United States. 

At the same time a very noble and extraordinary young 
man in France, by the name of La Fayette, hearing of the 
sufferings of the people here, hired a brig, and came at the 
risk of his life to save them from ruin. He was made a gen- 
eral in the American army, and passed through many dan- 
gers and hardships in our cause. He lived to be an old man, 
and was remarkably beloved by all good people. 

When the fighting had continued nearly eight years, and 



LESSONS FOR READING. 229 

two large British armies had been killed or taken prisoners 
by the Americans, King George concluded to give up the con- 
test, and let the United States be a nation by themselves, as 
they had determined. This they called the war of the Rev- 
olution, because that by this war the government of the coun- 
try was changed. 



LESSON XV. 

HUMMING BIRDS.— AnoxNymous. 

These little fairies of the feathered race — the smallest of 
birds, and perhaps the most brilliant — belong exclusively to 
our American continent and the adjacent islands. Most of 
them dwell in the warm climates, where flowers are ever in 
bloom, and where spring or summer hold perpetual sway. 
When flying in the sun, they look as if they were covered 
with gems and gold. The native American Indians, struck 
with the splendor of their hues, have called them " the hairs 
of the sun." One species alone visits our chill New Eng- 
land climate — the little fellow of the ruby throat. He comes 
to us in May, and makes himself familiar with our gardens 
and trellices, sports amid the flowers, and holds companion- 
ship only with the " flush and the fair." His stay is short, 
for early in September he is gone to more genial lands. 

It is only in tropical countries that the several species of 
humming-birds are seen in their abundance, variety, and 
glory. The islands that stud the ocean between Florida and 
the main land of South America, literally swarm with them. 
In the wild and uncultivated parts, they inhabit the magnifi- 
cent forests overhung with parasitical plants, whose blossoms 
hardly yield in beauty to the sparkling tints of these tenants 
of the air. In the cultivated portions, they abound in the 
gardens, and seem to delight in society, becoming familiar 
and destitute of fear, hovering often on one side of a shrub 
or plant, while the fruit is plucked on the other. 

Lively, and full of energy, these winged gems are almost 
incessantly in the air, darting from one object to another, 
and displaying their gorgeous hues in the sunbeams. When 
performing a lengthened flight, as during migration, they 
pass through the air in long undulations, raising themselves 

20 



230 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

to a considerable height and then falling in a curve. When 
feeding on a flower, they keep themselves poised in one po- 
sition, as steadily as if suspended on a bough — making a 
humming noise by the rapid motion of their wings. 

In disposition, these creatures are intrepid, but, like some 
other little people, they are very quarrelsome. In defend- 
ing their nests, they attack birds five times their size, and 
drive them off with ease. When angry, their motions are 
very violent and their flight as swift as an arrow. Often 
the eye is incapable of following them ; and their shrill, 
piercing shriek alone announces their presence. 

Among the most dazzling of this brilliant tribe is the bar- 
tailed humming-bird of Brazil. The tail is forked to the 
base, and consists of fi\e feathers, graduated one above an- 
other at almost equal distances. Their color is of the rich- 
est flame, or orange-red, with a dazzling metallic burnish. 
The ilpper part of the body of the bird is golden green ; the 
lower is red, and the under surface of emerald-green. — 
Stoke's humming-bird may perhaps be cited as a rival of this 
little gem of beauty. The head and whole of the back is 
covered with scale-shaped feathers, those on the head being 
brilliant blue and changing to violet, those on the back be- 
ing bright emerald-green. The cheeks are purplish-green, 
with small pink spots. Was there ever any lass at a fancy 
ball more gaily dressed ? Some of these beautiful creatures 
have splendid tufts on their heads. One has a crest of eme- 
rald-green ; another, of the brightest glossy blue ; another, 
a large cluster of violet plumes ; another has a gold tuft over 
each eye. There are more than a hundred kinds of this fa- 
mous race, all noted for their littleness and their surpassing 
beauty. It is as if the flowers had taken wings, and life, and 
intelligence, and shared in the sports of animal life. And if 
we regard their beauty, the delicacy of their feathers, their 
energy and power compared with their size — if we consider 
the ingenious mechanism of their structure — can we suffi- 
ciently admire the Architect who made them and bade them 
go forth to add life, and beauty, and brilliancy to the land- 
scape, while sharing themselves in the joys of existence ? 

Bright birds of the sun, how has every hue 
Of the sky and the rainbow been lavished on you ? 
What are the robes that a monarch enfold, 
Compared with your feathers of silver and gold ? 
Ye are richly arrayed, without toil and care, 



LESSONS FOR READING. 231 

And the flower-bells furnish your daily fare : 
A feast every morning before you is spread ; 
Ye are gloriously clothed, and luxuriously fed, 
And ye drink the pure nectar, and cry te-re, 
As ye fly from the flower to the blossoming tree. 

Swift as an arrow ye hasten along : 

Now ye are gleaming the lilies among ; 

Now through the gardens of roses you speed ; 

Now on the lofty magnolias you feed. 

Gay birds of the sun ! your plumes are as bright, 

As if you had bathed in his fountain of light. 

It is lovely indeed your wings to behold, 

All gleaming and glistening with azure and gold. 



LESSON XVI. 
A WORTHY OF THE REVOLUTION.— Cardell. 

In the afternoon, Solomon Belmot went with his young 
friend, Jack Halyard, to see the aged soldier, John Miller ; 
because, said they, though the good old man is neglected by 
many, yet he has always borne an unspotted character ; and 
though his purse is light, he has a noble soul. 

He has read, said Solomon, the history of many nations, 
and thought much concerning their welfare. Once, too, he 
had a good house and farm ; but he lost all, when this coun- 
try was in its deepest trouble. 

Mr. Miller had once been an orderly sergeant; this was 
many years ago ; and some old people still called him ser- 
geant Miller ; but it was no matter what title he bore. He 
wanted no kingly patent of nobility. His heraldry was in 
his heart. 

The aged patriot remembered Jack, with great affection, 
and received him with a most hearty welcome. The young 
men were much struck with his venerable appearance. His 
hair was white as silver ; and when he began to speak of the 
war, he grew earnest, and they listened with deep attention, 
till he drew tears down their cheeks. 

His musket lay on two wooden hooks, against the wall of 
the room. He took down this musket, which he had owned 
fifty years, and which, in all his distress, he would never 



232 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

sell. Then moving himself to the table, he laid one of his 
crutches upon it, and resting on the other, shouldered the 
musket, striking it smartly with his right hand, to make the 
bands rattle, as he used to do, when he was a young soldier 
on the parade. 

Suddenly he uttered a deep sigh, and his eyes glistened 
with the starting tear. He stood for a short time perfectly 
still, holding his musket at arm's length, and looking very 
steadily upon it. He appeared to be thinking of the places 
where he had been with that musket ; for he had carried it 
thousands of miles ; and many friends dear to him, he had 
seen fall, bleeding, around him, before his own leg was shot 
off in battle. 

Trembling with strong feeling, he wiped the tear from his 
furrowed cheek. " O," said the aged man, " I have not 
words to express my thoughts ! The memory of past years 
rushes like a flood, and hurries my mind away from this 
little cottage that shelters me. 

" I fancy myself standing on a high" mountain, surveying 
the grandest nation on which the sun ever shone. I behold 
myriads of children, through a long train of generations, 
thoughtlessly gay as the birds, and liable to go astray, be- 
cause they know not their own blessings. O, that they 
would listen to the warning of age, and be wise ! 

" If I could, I would speak to all the young people of 
America at once. My voice should be heard from the shores 
of Maine to the Rocky Mountains, and from the ocean to the 
inland seas. 

" I would lay the great cause of the country before them, 
and call up every noble feeling in their bosoms. I would 
put the question to their hearts, Can you content yourselves 
to follow at a distance the slavish rules of foreign lands, in- 
stead of raising high the banner of your own freedom, as a 
model for all nations ? 

" Have you read what your fathers have done ? Have 
you heard of the glory they gained ? And do these things 
seem like old fables, because they happened before you were 
born ? Go, then, my young friends, and view the fields they 
trod ; when the sun looked fiery and dim, through the smoke 
of war, and stout hearts fainted ; when widows and orphans 
were multiplied as their defenders fell. 

" Go, in the generous ardor of youth ; trace on the frost- 
bound earth, to Valley Forge, the honest farmers of our 
land, by their footsteps marked in blood. Behold the suf- 



LESSONS FOR READING. 233 

fering band ; some of your fathers among them ; their anx- 
ious chief watching in his tent, through the silent hours of 
night, and learn of them to love your country. 

" Go to Charlestown, wrapped in flames ; to Flatbush, Guil- 
ford, Camden, Wilmington ; see our brave men cut down on 
the battle plain, steeping the soil with their warm blood ; 
breathing their prayers to Heaven, at once for their own 
parting souls, and their country's cause, and inquire of them, 
if what you enjoy was bought at a cheap rate. 

" Go, where Europe has, for a hundred ages, swelled her 
domes, refined in vice, and strengthened her abuses ; see 
there the pale victim of lawless power, in his lone dungeon, 
encircled by chains and torturing machines ; wearing away 
his life by slow degrees ; without hope of seeing, on earth, a 
helping hand, or pitying tear, and ask him, if freedom is a 
blessing of trifling value. 

" O, my dear lads," said he to the young men, " you are 
just entering the stage of manhood ; full of life, and heart- 
cheering hope ; you see me poor and decrepid, drawing near 
to the grave, my resting place ; but such as I am, I have 
always lived an honest life ; I have abhorred fraud and 
falsehood : I have tried to be useful to my fellow-men. 

* I can lay my hand on my heart, and look up with hum- 
ble confidence to that Being who knows all my thoughts ; 
and I would not change my situation, as a free American, 
with the proudest monarch of the globe. No, no: not all 
their glittering trappings ; nor the bayonets of pampered 
guards ; nor flattering tongues, can save them from a guilty 
conscience, and a dying bed. 55 

" Ah," said Solomon to Jack, as they were •returning, 
" what you and I have read of, this venerable man has seen, 
and acted, and felt. His reverend head, whitened by the 
frosts of so many winters, is a living record of the times he 
tells us of. We belong to a glorious empire. He was pre- 
sent when its foundations were laid." 

"Any people," said Jack, "to" be prosperous, must be 
united, wise, and good ; and if these things are properly at- 
tended to he. e, we shall have the most splendid republic 
which the world has ever seen. This depends on the schools. 
I have read the opinions of eminent men, of different coun- 
tries, respecting instruction. 

" Mr. Beccaria says, in the book which he wrote about 
1 Crimes and Punishments,' that 'the most certain means of 
rendering a people free and happy, is to establish a perfect 

20* 



234 THE YOUNG SPEAKER* 

method of education. 5 It is impossible for a nation to be 
truly flourishing without good schools." 



LESSON XVIL 
DEATH OF A CONQUEROR— Bible. 

And it shall come to pass in the day that the Lord shall 
give thee rest from thy sorrow, and from thy fear, and from 
thy hard bondage, wherein thou wast made to serve, 

That thou shalt take up this proverb against the king of 
Babylon, and say, 

How hath the oppressor ceased ! The golden city ceases ! 

The Lord hath broken the staff of the wicked, and the 
sceptre of the rulers. 

He who smote the people in wrath with a continual stroke, 
he that ruled the nations in anger, is persecuted, and none 
hindereth. 

The whole earth is at rest, and is quiet ; they break forth 
into singing. 

Yea, the fir-trees rejoice at thee, and the cedars of Leba- 
non, saying, Since thou art laid down, no feller is come up 
against us. 

The grave from beneath is moved for thee to meet thee at 
thy coming ; it stirreth up the dead for thee, even all the 
chief ones of the earth ; it hath raised up from their thrones 
all the kings of the nations. 

All they shall speak and say unto thee, 

Art thou also become weak as we ? Art thou become 
like unto us ? 

Thy pomp is brought down to the grave, and the noise of 
thy viols ; the worm is spread under thee, and the worms 
cover thee. 

How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the 
morning ! how art thou cut down to the ground, which didst 
weaken the nations ! 

For thou hadst said in thine heart, I will ascend into hea- 
ven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God : I will 
set also upon the mount of the congregation in the sides of 
the north : 

I will ascend above the heights of the clouds ; I will be 
like the Most High. 

Yet thou shalt be brought down to the grave, to the sides 
of the pit. 



LESSONS FOR READING. 235 

They that see thee, shall narrowly look upon thee, and con- 
sider thee, saying, Is this the man that made the earth to 
tremble, that did shake kingdoms ? 

That made the world as a wilderness, and destroyed the 
cities thereof, that opened not the house of his prisoners ? 



LESSON XVIII. 

THE GENEROUS RUSSIAN PEASANT.— Karamsin. 

Let Virgil sing the praises of Augustus, genius celebrate 
merit, and flattery extol the talents of the great. The short 
and simple annals of the "poor" engross my pen ; and while 
I record the history of Flor Silin's virtues, though I speak 
of a poor peasant, I shall describe a nobleman, — I ask no 
eloquence to assist me in the task, — modest worth rejects the 
aid of ornament to set it off. 

It is impossible, even at this distant period, to reflect with- 
out horror on the miseries of that year, known in Lower 
Wolga by the name of the "famine year.' 5 I remember the 
summer, whose scorching heats had dried up all the fields, 
and the drought had no relief but from the tears of the ruined 
farmer ; — I remember the cold comfortless autumn — and 
the despairing rustics, crowding round their empty farms, 
with folded arms and sorrowful countenances, pondering on 
their misery, instead of rejoicing, as usual, at the golden 
hcffvest ; — I remember the winter which succeeded, and I 
reflect with agony on the miseries it brought with it, — whole 
families left their homes to become beggars on the highway. 
At night, the canopy of heaven served them as their only 
shelter from the piercing winds and bitter frost ; — to describe 
these scenes would be to harm the feelings of my readers ; 
therefore, to my tale. 

In those days, I lived on an estate not far from Simbirsk ; 
and, though but a child, I have not forgotten the impression 
made on my mind by the general calamity. 

In a village adjoining, lived Flor Silin, a poor laboring 
peasant, — a man remarkable for his assiduity, and the skill 
and judgment with which he cultivated his lands. He was 
blessed with abundant crops, and his means being larger 
than his wants, his granaries, even at this time, were full of 
corn. The dry year coming on, had beggared all the village, 
except himself. Here was an opportunity to grow rich ! — 



236 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Mark, how Flor Silin acted. Having called the poorest of 
his neighbors about him, he addressed them in the following 
manner : 

" My friends, you want corn for your subsistence ; — God 
has blessed me with abundance — assist in thrashing out a 
quantity, and each of you take what he wants for his family." 

The peasants were amazed at this unexampled generosity ; 
for sordid propensities exist in the village as well as in the 
populous city. 

The fame of Flor Silin's benevolence having reached other 
villages, the famished inhabitants presented themselves be- 
fore him, and begged for corn. This good creature received 
them as brothers ; and, while his store remained, afforded 
all relief. 

At length, his wife, seeing no end to the generosity of his 
noble spirit, reminded him how necessary it would be to think 
on their own wants, and hold his lavish hand, before it was 
too late. " It is written in the Scripture," said he, " Give, 
and it shall be given unto you." 

The following year Providence listened to the prayers of 
the poor, and the harvest was abundant. The peasants, who 
had been saved from starving by Flor Silin, now gathered 
around him. 

" Behold," said they, "the corn you lent us. You saved 
our wives and children. We should have been famished but 
for you, — may God reward you, — he only can, — all we have 
to give, is our corn and grateful thanks." u I want no corn, 
at present, my good neighbors," said he ; " my harvest has 
exceeded all my expectations ; for the rest, thank Heaven, I 
have been but an humble instrument." 

They urged him in vain. "No," said he, " I shall not 
accept your corn. If you have superfluities, share them 
among your poor neighbors, who, being unable to sow their 
fields last autumn, are still in want — let us assist them, my 
dear friends, the Almighty will bless us for it." " Yes," 
replied the grateful peasants, " our poor neighbors shall have 
this corn. They shall know that it is to you they owe this 
timely succor, and join to teach their children the debt of 
gratitude due to your benevolent heart." 

Silin raised his tearful eye to heaven. — An angel might 
have envied him his feelings. 

At another time, fourteen farm houses were burnt down in 
an adjoining village — to each sufferer Silin sent two roubles 
and a scythe. 



LESSONS FOR READING. 237 

Sometime after, a like misfortune happened at another vil- 
lage — it was entirely consumed ; and the inhabitants, reduced 
to the last degree of misery, had recourse to Silin ; but his 
former benevolence had impoverished his means, — he had no 
money to help them, — what was to be done, — " Stop," said 
he, suddenly recollecting himself, " here is a horse — I do not 
actually want him — take and sell him." 

He set at liberty two female slaves, whom he bought in 
the name of the lord of the manor, educated them as his own 
daughters, and when they married gave them a handsome 
dowry. 

As long as thou continuest, noble Silin, to inhabit this 
world, so long will thy life be spent in acts of generosity and 
benevolence towards thy fellow creatures ; and when thou 
hast exchanged this for a better life, the recording angel 
shall proclaim thy virtues in heaven ; the Almighty will 
place thee high, above kings and princes, and thou wilt still 
be the friend of the comfortless, and a father to the poor and 
indigent on earth. If ever I revisit that country, whose or- 
nament thou art, I shall approach thy cot with reverence, 
and pay h.nmage to thy virtues : hiiL if the minister of peace 
hath removed thee into bliss, I will visit thy grave, sprinkle 
it with my tears, and place a stone upon the spot, on which, 
with my own hand, I will write — 

Here rest the bones of a noble man ! 



LESSON XIX. 

PARENTAL INSTRUCTION.— Law. 

Paterntjs had but one son, whom he educated himself. 
As they were sitting together in the garden, when the child 
was ten years old, Paternus thus addressed him : — Though 
you now think yourself so happy because you have hold of 
my hand, you are in the hands, and under the tender care of 
a much greater Father and Friend than I am, whose love to 
you is far greater than mine, and from whom you receive 
such blessings as no mortal can give. 

You see, my son, this wide and large firmament over our 

heads, where the sun, and moon, and all the stars appear in 

their turns. If you were to be carried to any of these 

bodies, at this vast distance from us, you would still discover 

1 others as much above you, as the stars which you see here 



238 THE YOUNG SPEAKER, 

are above the earth. Were you to go up or down, east or 
west, north or south, you would find the same height without 
any top, and the same depth without any bottom. 

Yet, so great is God, that all these bodies added together 
are only as a grain of sand in His sight. But you are as 
much the care of this great God and Father of all worlds, 
and all spirits, as if he had no son but you, or there were no 
creature for Him to love and protect but you alone. He 
numbers the hairs of your head, watches over you sleeping 
and waking, and has preserved you from a thousand dangers, 
unknown both to you and me. 

Therefore, my child, fear, and worship, and love God. 
Your eyes indeed cannot yet see Him, but all things which 
you see, are so many marks of His power and presence, and 
He is nearer to you than any thing which you can see. 

Take Him for your Lord, and Father, and Friend : look 
up unto Him as the fountain and cause of all the good which 
you have received from me, and reverence me only as the 
bearer and minister of God's good things to you. He that 
blessed my father before I was born, will bless you when I 
am dead. 

As you have been used to look to me in all your actions, 
and have been afraid to do any thing, unless you first knew 
my will ; so let it now be a rule of your life to look up to 
God in all your actions, to do every thing in His fear, and to 
abstain from every thing which is not according to His will. 

Next to this, love mankind with such tenderness and affec- 
tion, as you love yourself. Think how God loves all man- 
kind, how merciful He is to them, how tender He is of them, 
how carefully He preserves them, and then strive to love the 
world as God loves it. 

Do good, my son, first of all to those who most deserve it ; 
but remember to do good to all. The greatest sinners re- 
ceive daily instances of God's goodness towards them ; He 
nourishes and preserves them, that they may repent and re- 
turn to Him ; do you therefore imitate God, and think no one 
too bad to receive your relief and kindness, when you see 
that he wants it. 

Let your dress be sober, clean, and modest — not to set off 
the beauty of your person, but to declare the sobriety of 
your mind, that your outward garb may resemble the inward 
plainness and simplicity of your heart. For it is highly 
reasonable that you should be one man, and appear outwardly 
such as you are inwardly. 



LESSONS FOR READING. 239 

In meat and drink, observe the rules of Christian temper- 
ance and sobriety ; consider your body only as the servant 
and minister of your soul ; and only so nourish it, as it may 
best perform an humble and obedient service. 

Love humility in all its instances, practice it in all its 
parts, for it is the noblest state of the soul of man ; it will 
set your heart and affections right towards God, and fill you 
with whatever temper is tender and affectionate towards men. 

Let every day therefore be a day of humility ; condescend 
to all the weakness and infirmities of your fellow-creatures ; 
cover their frailties ; love their excellencies ; encourage 
their virtues ; relieve their wants ; rejoice in their prosperity ; 
compassionate their distress ; receive their friendship ; over- 
look their unkindness ; forgive their malice ; be a servant of 
servants ; and condescend to do the lowest offices for the 
lowest of mankind. 

It seems but the other day since I received from my dear 
father the same instructions which I am now leaving with 
you. And the God who gave me ears to hear, and a heart 
to receive, what my father enjoined on me, will, I hope, give 
you grace to love and follow the same instructions. 



LESSON XX. 
PICTURE OF A YOUTH.— Hardie. 

Shall I relate to you the sad tale of corrupted virtue ; the 
melancholy fate of him, whom the example of profligate com- 
panions has seduced from the maxims of prudence ? The 
days were, when he was taught to tremble at the way of the 
wicked, and to lisp the prayer of infancy to Heaven. The 
days were, when he could boast of a mind unpolluted by the 
world, when he resisted the allurements of corruption, and 
was a joy to the hearts of his parents. As he rose in years, 
he rose in promise. His parents poured out their souls in 
gratitude to Heaven, who had given them such a reward for 
their toils and anxieties, and looked forward in rapturous 
anticipation to the time when he would be the pride and com- 
fort of their declining age. But the day comes, when he must 
leave his home of peace and innocence. He must attempt 
his fortune in the walks of active life. He must brave the 
dangers and seductions of a deceitful world. He must go, 



240 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

and the best blessings of his father go with him. " Thou 
art young," says the aged father, " and it is a dark world thou 
art entering, but I trust that Providence will guide thee through 
its deceitful mazes. It has pleased God to deprive me of 
many children, and I bow under his dispensations. He has 
left thee for a staff and for a comforter. May his fear reign 
in thy heart, and may he preserve thee a joy and ornament 
to our family. 5 ' He leaves them in tears and in silence. 
His heart swells with the purposes of virtue. He looks 
forward to the day, when he shall return to his mansion of 
piety ; when his presence shall enliven the last days of a 
venerable father ; when he shall weep over him in his dying 
hours, and close his eyes in peace. But, O Heaven ! how 
mysterious are thy counsels ! O man ! how wretched the in- 
constancy of thy purposes ! O example ! how powerful and 
how fascinating thy seduction ! For a while he firmly re- 
sists every allurement ; he contemplates, in horror, the dark 
scenes with which he is surrounded ; he turns, in disgust and 
indignation, from the corruption of his acquaintance, and 
sighs, in affectionate remembrance, over the temperance and 
simplicity of his father's house. But how shall the inno- 
cence of his youthful heart stand against the torrent of exam- 
ple ? How can he resist that innumerable host of enemies, 
who conspire against his virtue ? Here one practices his 
deceitful insinuations, and assures him, with a smiling coun- 
tenance, that there is no harm. There, another turns 
against him the weapons of ridicule, and tries to laugh him 
out of his dull and spiritless sobriety. There, a third invites 
him to the repast of hospitality and friendship, only to expose 
his ears to the conversation of a licentious company. He at 
last falls a reluctant sacrifice to the arts of an unprincipled 
ingenuity. The disgusting features of vice soften down by 
the familiarity of habit. To shelter himself from the con- 
tempt and hostility of his acquaintance, he is forced to ac- 
commodate to their example. In the bowl of intoxication, 
he drowns the painful remembrance of a father's advice, 
and a father's anxiety. His soul maddens in the pursuit 
of pleasure, and he plunges headlong into all the infatuation 
of guilt. 

Who can tell the sufferings of that hour, when the tidings 
of his fall reach the ears of an affectionate father ; and when 
he hears, that the boy of his heart has been allured into the j 
paths of destruction ? The pillar of his hope is now over- 
thrown, and he is left like a tree in a desert. He sinks to 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 241 

earth in deep and silent affliction. There is naught for him, 
but the gloom and desolation of age. He sighs that the 
grave may cover him, and that, in the tomb's peaceful retreat, 
he may forget the sufferings of his dreary pilgrimage. We 
have heard religion denounced for the hateful asperity of its 
aspect ; but let us remember that it is the severitv of benev- 
olence. It is a flaming sword, to protect the weak and erring 
children of humanity, from the deceitful paths of licentious- 
ness. Shall religion be denounced as hateful, because it 
lifts the voice of execration against the practices of an un- 
feeling depravity ? Shall it be charged with the gloom and 
malignity of superstition, because it rises in all the thunder 
of resentment against the villainy of him, who can blast the 
hopes of an anxious and affectionate parent ; who can spread 
the wiles of seduction, and trample, without a sigh, on the 
prostitution of youthful simplicity ? 



LESSON XXI. 

DAMON AND PYTHIAS.— Brooke. 

When Damon was sentenced by Dionysius, the tyrant of 
Syracuse, to die on a certain day, he prayed permission to 
retire, in the mean time, to his own country, to set the affairs 
of his disconsolate family in order. This the tyrant intended 
most peremptorily to refuse, by granting it, as he conceived, 
on the impossible condition of his procuring some one to re- 
main as hostage for his return, under equal forfeiture of 
life. Pythias heard the condition, and did not wait for an 
application on the part of Damon. He instantly offered him- 
self to confinement, in place of his friend, and Damon was 
accordingly set at liberty. 

The king, and all his courtiers, were astonished at this 
action, as they could not account for it on any allowed prin- 
ciples. Self-interest, in their judgment, was the sole mover 
of human affairs ; and they looked on virtue, friendship, be- 
nevolence, love of country, and the like, as terms invented 
by the wise to impose upon the weak. They, therefore, im- 
puted this act of Pythias to the extravagance of his folly ; to 
a defect of understanding, merely, and, no way, to any vir- 
tue or good quality of heart. 

When the day of the destined execution drew near, the 

21 



242 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

tyrant had the curiosity to visit Pythias in his dungeon. 
Having reproached him for the extravagance of his conduct, 
and rallied him some time on his madness, in presuming that 
Damon, by his return, would prove as romantic as himself — 
" My lord," said Pythias, with a firm voice and noble aspect, 
" I would it were possible, that I might suffer a thousand 
deaths, rather than my friend should fail in any article of his 
honor. He cannot fail therein, my lord. I am as confident 
of his virtue, as I am of my own existence. But I pray, 1 
beseech the gods, to preserve the life and integrity of my 
Damon together. Oppose him, ye winds ! prevent the eager- 
ness and impatience of his honorable endeavors ; and suffer 
him not to arrive, till, by my death, 1 have redeemed a life, 
a thousand times of more consequence, of more estimation, 
than my own; more estimable to his lovely wife, to his pre- 
cious little innocents, to his friends, to his country. O ! 
leave me not to die the worst of deaths in my Damon." Di- 
onysius was awed and confounded by the dignity of these 
sentiments, and by the manner, still more affecting, in which 
they were uttered. He felt his heart struck by a slight 
sense of invading truth ; but it served rather to perplex than 
undeceive him. He hesitated. He would have spoken ; 
but he looked down, and retired in silence. 

The fatal day arrived. Pythias was brought forth ; and 
walked, amidst the guard, with a serious but satisfied air, to 
the place of execution. Dionysius was already there. He 
was exalted on a moving throne drawn by six white horses, 
and sat pensive and attentive to the demeanor of the prisoner. 
Pythias came. He vaulted slightly on the scaffold, and, be- 
holding for some time the apparatus of death, he turned, and, 
with a pleasing countenance, thus addressed the assembly. 
" My prayers are heard. The gods are propitious. You 
know, my friends, that the winds have been contrary till 
yesterday. Damon could not come ; he could not conquer 
impossibilities. He will be here to-morrow ; and the blood 
which is shed to-day, shall have ransomed the life of my 
friend. O ! could I erase from your bosoms every doubt, 
every mean suspicion, of the honor of the man for whom I 
am about to suffer, I should go to my death, even as I would 
to my bridal. Be it sufficient, in the mean time, that my 
friend will be found noble — that his truth is unimpeachable — ■ 
that he will speedily approve it — that he is now on his way, 
hurrying on, accusing himself, the adverse elements, and the 
gods. But I hasten to prevent his speed. Executioner, do 



LESSONS FOR READING. 243 

your office !" As he pronounced the last words, a buz began 
to arise among the remotest of the people. A distant voice 
was heard. The crowd caught the words ; and, " Stop, stop 
the execution !" was repeated by the whole assembly. A 
man came at full speed. The throng gave way to his ap- 
proach. He was mounted on a steed of foam. In an instant 
he was off his horse, on the scaffold, and held Pythias straitly 
embraced. " You are safe/' he cried ; " you are safe, my 
friend, my beloved ! the gods be praised, you are safe ! I, 
now, have nothing but death to suffer; and I am delivered 
from the anguish of those reproaches, which I gave myself, 
for having endangered a life so much dearer than my own. 55 
Pale, and almost speechless, in the arms of his Damon, 
Pythias replied, in broken accents, " Fatal haste ! — Cruel 
impatience ! What envious powers have wrought impossi- 
bilities in your favor ? But I will not be wholly disappointed. 
Since I cannot die to save, I will not survive you." 

Dionysius heard, beheld, and considered all, with astonish- 
ment His heart was touched ; his eyes were opened ; and 
he could no longer refuse his assent to truths, so incontesti- 
bly proved by facts. He descended from his throne. He 
ascended the scaffold. u Live, live, ye incomparable pair ! J? 
he exclaimed- " Ye have borne unquestionable testimony 
to the existence of virtue ! Live happy! live renowned! 
And, O ! form me by your precepts, as you have invited me 
by your example, to be worthy of the participation of so 
sacred a friendship." 



LESSON XXII. 
THE ALMIGHTY.— The Scriptures. 

I will extol thee, my God, O King ! and I will bless thy 
name for ever and ever. I will speak of the glorious honor 
of thy majesty, and of thy wondrous works ; I will declare 
thy greatness. 

The Lord our God is one Lord : — the high and lofty One, 
that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy: — the King 
eternal, immortal, invisible ; — dwelling in the light which no 
man can approach unto. 

Honor and majesty are before him; strength and beauty 



244 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

are in his sanctuary. He is clothed with majesty. His 
greatness is unsearchable. 

Consider the wondrous works of God, — of him that is per- 
fect in knowledge. The earth is full of the goodness of the 
Lord. 

God formed the earth. He spake, and it was done ; he 
commanded, and it stood fast. He hangeth the earth upon 
nothing. He hath established it ; he created it not in vain ; 
he formed it to be inhabited. God created man upon the 
earth. By him were all things created that are in the earth ; 
all things were created by him, and for him. 

He covereth the heavens with clouds ; he prepareth rain 
for the earth, — the former and the latter rain in its season. 
He visiteth the earth, and watereth it ; he maketh it soft with 
showers ; he blesseth the springing thereof. He maketh 
grass to grow upon the mountains. The pastures are clothed 
with flocks ; the valleys also are covered over with corn. 
He reserveth unto us the appointed weeks of the harvest. 

He causeth the vapors to ascend from the ends of the earth. 
He divideth a way for the lightning with thunder. He ma- 
keth lightnings for the rain ; he bringeth the wind out of his 
treasuries. He giveth snow like wool : he scattereth the 
hoar-frost like ashes. By the breath of his mouth frost is 
given : — who can stand before his cold ? 

Lift up your eyes on high. Behold the clouds which are 
higher than thou. Look unto the heavens and see. Behold 
the height of the stars. Tell the stars, if thou be able to 
number them. Behold, who hath created these things ? 

" My hands," saith God, "have stretched out the heavens, 
and all the host have I commanded. I form the light, and 
create darkness. 

The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament 
sheweth his handywork. He telleth the number of the stars ; 
He calleth them all by their names. He giveth the sun for 
a light by day, and the ordinances of the moon and of the 
stars for a light by night. His glory covereth the heavens, 
and the earth is full of his praise ! 

O Lord ! how great are thy works ! and thy thoughts are 
very deep ! When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy 
fingers ; the moon, and the stars, which thou hast ordained ; 
— what is man that thou art mindful of him ! — and the son of 
man that thou visitest him ! 

Thine, O Lord ! is the greatness, and the power, and the 
glory, and the victory, and the majesty ; for all that is in 



LESSONS FOR READING. 245 

heaven and in earth is thine ; thine is the kingdom, O Lord ! 
and thou art exalted as head above all. Thou reignest over 
all, and in thine hand is power and might ; and in thine hand 
it is to make great, and to give strength unto all. 

The Lord killeth, and maketh alive ; the Lord maketh 
poor, and maketh rich ; he bringeth low, and lifteth up. He 
changeth the times and the seasons ; he removeth kings, and 
setteth up kings. He increaseth the nations, and destroy eth 
them ; he enlargeth the nations, and straiteneth them. All 
nations before him are as nothing ; and they are counted to 
him less than nothing, and vanity. 

Lo, these are parts of his ways ; but how little a portion 
is heard of him ! — the thunder of his power, who can under- 
stand ? Touching the Almighty, we cannot find him out. 
Great things doeth he which we cannot comprehend. 

The eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the 
evil and the good. His eyes are upon the ways of man ; He 
seeth his going. All things are naked and opened unto the 
eyes of Him with whom we have to do. 

Wo unto them that seek deep to hide counsel from the 
Lord ! and say — ■" Who seeth us ?" Shall the work say of 
him that made it, — " He made me not ?" — or shall the thing 
framed say of him that framed it, " He had no understand, 
ing ?'* There is no wisdom, nor understanding, nor counsel 
against the Lord. Wo unto him that striveth with his Ma- 
ker ! At his wrath the earth shall tremble ; and the na- 
tions shall not be able to abide his indignation. Our God is 
a consuming fire. 

The Lord is good. Gracious is the Lord ; yea, our God 
is merciful. The Lord is nigh unto all them that call upon 
him, to all that call upon him in truth. He will fulfil the 
desire of them that fear him ; He also will hear their cry, 
and will save them. He preserveth all them that love him ; 
— but all the wicked will he destroy. 

The Lord is righteous in all his ways, and holy in all his 
works. Righteousness and judgment are the habitation of 
his throne. — -Shall not the judge of all the earth do right ? 

Acquaint now thyself with him, and be at peace. Re- 
ceive the law from his mouth, and lay up his words in thine 
heart. Then shalt thou have thy delight in the Almighty, 
and shall lift up thy face unto God. Happy is that people 
that is in such a case : yea, happy is that people whose God 
is the Lord ! 

21* 



246 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

LESSON XXIII. 

MORTALITY.— -Barbauld. 

Child of mortality, whence comest thou ? Why is thy 
countenance sad, and why are thine eyes red with weeping ? 

I have seen the rose in its beauty ; it spread its leaves to 
the morning sun : I returned — it was dying upon its stalk ; 
the grace of the form of it was gone ; its loveliness was van- 
ished away ; the leaves thereof were scattered on the ground ; 
and no one gathered them again. 

A stately tree grew on the plain ; its branches were cov- 
ered with verdure ; its boughs spread wide and made a 
goodly shadow ; the trunk was like a strong pillar ; the roots 
were like crooked fangs : I returned — the verdure was nipt by 
the east wind ; the branches were lopt away by the axe ; the 
worm had made its way into the trunk, and the heart there- 
of was decayed : it mouldered away, and fell to the ground. 

I have seen the insects sporting in the sunshine, and dart- 
ing along the streams ; their wings glittered with gold and 
purple ; their bodies shone like the green emerald ; they 
were more numerous than I could count ; their motions were 
quicker than my eye could glance : I returned — they were 
brushed into the pool ; they were perishing with the evening 
breeze ; the swallow had devoured them ; the pike had 
seized them ; there were none found of so great a multitude. 

I have seen man in the pride of his strength ; his cheeks 
glowed with beauty ; his limbs were full of activity ; he 
leaped ; he walked ; he ran ; he rejoiced in that he was 
more excellent than those : I returned — he lay stiff and cold 
on the bare ground ; his feet could no longer move, nor his 
hands stretch themselves out ; his life was departed from 
him ; and the breath out of his nostrils ; — therefore do I 
weep, because Death is in the world : the spoiler is among 
the works of God ; all that is made must be destroyed ; all 
that is born must die ; let me alone, for I will weep yet 
longer. 



LESSON XXIV. 

IMMORTALITY— Barbauld. 

I have seen the flower withering on the stalk, and its bright 
leaves spread on the ground. I looked again and it sprung 



LESSONS FOR READING. 247 

forth afresh ; the stem was crowned with new buds, and the 
sweetness thereof filled the air. 

I have seen the sun set in the west, and the shades of 
night shut in the wide horizon ; there was no color, nor 
shape, nor beauty, nor music ; gloom and darkness brooded 
around. I looked — the sun broke forth again from the east, 
he gilded the mountain tops ; the lark rose to meet him from 
her low nest, and the shades of darkness fled away. 

I have seen the insect, being come to its full size, languish 
and refuse to eat ; it spun itself a tomb, and was shrouded 
in the silken cone ; it lay without feet, or shape, or power to 
move. I looked again — it had burst its tomb ; it was full of 
life, and sailed on colored wings through the soft air ; it re- 
joiced in its new being. 

Thus shall it be with thee, O man ! and so shall thy life 
be renewed. 

Beauty shall spring up out of ashes ; and life out of the 
dust. 

A little while shalt thou lie in the ground, as the seed lieth 
in the bosom of the earth ; but thou shalt be raised again ; 
and if thou art good, thou shalt never die any more. 

Who is He that cometh to burst open the prison doors of the 
tomb ; to bid the dead awake, and to gather His redeemed 
from the four winds of heaven ? 

He descendeth on a fiery cloud ; the sound of a trumpet 
goeth before him ; thousands of angels are on His right hand. 

It is Jesus, the son of God ; the Savior of men : the friend 
of the good. 

He cometh in the glory of his Father ; he hath received 
power from on high. 

Mourn not, therefore, child of immortality ; — for the 
spoiler, the cruel spoiler that laid waste the works of God, 
is subdued ; Jesus hath conquered death ; child of immor- 
tality ! mourn no longer. 



LESSON XXY. 

INFLUENCE OF KNOWLEDGE.— J. Keese. 

We observe the elevating influence of knowledge in all 
the various stages of advantageous industry. It ennobles the 
youth that is just entering the arena of manly care ; wisdom 



248 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 






and diligence walk hand in hand to cheer the toil of the arti- 
zan, embellish the fields of the agriculturist, enliven the pur- 
suits of the tradesman, and adorn the chamber of commer- 
cial negociation, to spread taste and refinement through the 
scenes of domestic life, and hang delightful mementoes in all 
the pure bowers of retirement ; to connect the charms of po- 
etry with severer intellectual exertion ; to guide the efforts 
of reason in the pulpit, the forum and the legislative hall ; to 
increase and beautify the fascinating influences of native elo- 
quence, and impart sensibility and power where nature has 
not profusely endowed. The clown of yesterday is now the 
philosopher ; the youth who was recently vulgar and ob- 
scene, to-day is refined and distinguished ; the pence which 
lately were the whole invoice of the merchant's capital, now 
have attracted princely opulence to their society ; the boy 
who recently toiled to learn the mysterious characters of the 
alphabet, already surprises and delights by their wonderful 
combinations. We see an individual who was lately an 
American schoolmaster, at present wearing the crown of 
France ; we trace the career of our late Executive to a boy- 
hood of penury ; from a similar origin we follow the present 
Chief Magistrate of this great Republic to his exalted station, 
while we remember that our eloquent Webster was but re- 
cently toiling in the fields of his paternal home ; and observe 
the course of the graceful and impassioned Clay, from the 
obscure scenes of indigence and virtue, whence, by the 
magic force of genius and diligence, he has risen to the lofty 
eminence where he now shines with dazzling, yet cheerful 
effulgence, in the constellation of luminaries that enlighten 
and guide the world. 

From these familiar considerations we perchance may 
gather some advantageous practical ideas. We perceive the 
truth of the ancient maxim, that knowledge is power. We 
learn that for brilliant results, judicious thought and patient, 
skillful action should be associated ; we note the work of per- 
severing energy ; we see that poverty and obscure parentage 
cannot imprison the aspirings of virtuous and lofty ambition ; 
we observe that suitable attention to ordinary duties need not 
debar the intellectual from treading the walks of science and 
seeking enjoyment in its refreshing groves ; that extensive 
acquisitions in literature are compatible with sedulous activ- 
ity for securing honorable fortunes ; that knowledge is chiefly 
valuable when usefully applied, and that the practice of wis- 
dom is its most essential part. Will you ask, then, what 



LESSONS FOR READING. 249 

is knowledge worth ? — Repair to Egypt, and Greece, and 
Rome ; explore the literature of England, France, and Ger- 
many • recite the story of our youthful Republic ; portray 
the march of improvement through the length and breadth of 
this goodly land ; observe the immense conquests of art ; sur- 
vey all that is deemed necessary and desirable in the produc- 
tions of human skill ; let the sciences speak ; consider the 
whole field of happiness that human wisdom cultivates ; 
remember the constant progress of genius and industry, 
and then reply. What is the value of knowledge ? Let 
poetry say ; let reason answer ; let each heart respond. 
What is knowledge worth indeed 1 What has it done ? — the 
ocean, the air, the devouring elements ; these it much con- 
trols and appropriates ; the heavenly bodies, the wonders of 
the universe, these it opens to our scrutiny. Man ! Man in 
degradation and sorrow ! him it cheers, ennobles, and ele- 
vates. 



LESSON XXVI. 
A NOBLE BOY.— Willis. 

There 's something in a noble boy, 

A brave free-hearted careless one, 
With his unchecked, unbidden joy, 

His dread of books and love of fun, 
And in his clear and ready smile, 
Unshaded by a thought of guile, 

And unrepressed by sadness — 
Which brings me to my childhood back, 
As if I trod its very track, 

And felt its very gladness. 
And yet it is not in his play, 

When every trace of thought is lost, 
And not when you would call him gay, 

That his bright presence thrills me most. 
His shout may ring upon the hill, 

His voice be echoed in the hall, 
His merry laugh like music trill, 

And I unheeding hear it all — 
For like the wrinkles on my brow, 
I scarcely notice such things now — 



250 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

But when amid the earnest game, 
He stops as if he music heard, 

And, heedless of his shouted name, 
As of the carol of a bird, 
Stands gazing on the empty air, 
As if some dream were passing there — 
5 Tis then that on his face I look, 

His beautiful but thoughtful face, 
And like a long forgotten book, 

Its sweet, familiar meanings trace — 
Remembering a thousand things 
Which passed me on those golden wings, 

Which time has fettered now — 
Things that came o'er me with a thrill, 
And left me silent, sad and still, 

And threw upon my brow 
A holier and a gentler cast, 
That was too innocent to last. 

'Tis strange how thoughts upon a child 

Will, like a presence, sometimes press — 
And when his pulse is beating wild, 

And life itself is in excess — 
When foot and hand, and ear and eye, 
Are all with ardor straining high — 

How in his heart will spring 
A feeling, whose mysterious thrall 
Is stronger, sweeter far than all ; 

And on its silent wing, 
How with the clouds he '11 float away, 
As wandering and as lost as they ! 




LESSON XXVII. 

INDIAN RESOLUTION.— Irving. 

No hero of ancient or modern days can surpass the Indian 
in his lofty contempt of death, and the fortitude with which 
he sustains its cruellest affliction. Indeed, we here behold 
him rising superior to the white man, in consequence of his 
peculiar education. The latter rushes to glorious death at 
the cannon's mouth ; the former calmly contemplates its 



LESSONS FOR READING. 251 

approach, and triumphantly endures it, amidst the varied 
torments of surrounding foes and the protracted agonies of 
lire. He even takes a pride in taunting his persecutors, and 
provoking their ingenuity of torture ; and as the devouring 
flames prey on his very vitals, and the flesh shrinks from the 
sinews 3 he raises his last song of triumph, breathing the de- 
fiance of an unconquered heart, and invoking the spirits of his 
fathers to witness that he dies without a groan. 

In one of the homely narratives of the Indian wars in 
New-England, there is a touching account of the desolation 
carried into the tribe of the Pequot Indians. Humanity 
shrinks from the cold-blooded detail of indiscriminate butch- 
ery. In one place we read of the surprisal of an Indian fort 
in the night, when the wigwams were wrapped in flames, 
and the miserable inhabitants shot down and slain in attempt- 
ing to escape, " all being dispatched and ended in the course 
of an hour.' 5 After a series of similar transactions, " our 
soldiers," as the historian piously observes, " being resolved, 
by God's assistance, to make a final destruction of them/' 
the unhappy savages, being hunted from their homes and 
fortresses, and pursued with fire and sword, a scanty but 
gallant band, the sad remnant of the Pequot warriors, with 
their wives and children, took refuge in a swamp. 

Burning with indignation, and rendered sullen by despair ; 
with hearts bursting with grief at the destruction of their 
tribe, and spirits galled and sore at the fancied ignominy of 
their defeat, they refused to ask their lives at the hands of an 
insulting foe, and preferred death to submission. 

As the night drew on, they were surrounded in their dismal 
retreat, so as to render escape impracticable. Thus situated, 
their enemy " plied them with shot all the time, by which 
means many were killed and buried in the mire." In the 
darkness and fog that preceded the dawn of day, some few 
broke through the besiegers and escaped into the woods : 
" the rest were left to the conquerors, of which many were 
killed in the swamp, like sullen dogs who would rather, in 
their self-willedness and madness, sit still and be shot 
through, or cut to pieces," than implore for mercy. When 
the day broke upon this handful of forlorn but dauntless 
spirits, the soldiers, we are told, entering the swamp, " saw 
several heaps of them sitting close together, upon whom they 
discharged their pieces, laden with ten or twelve pistol bullets, 
at a time ; putting the muzzles of the pieces under the 
boughs, within a few yards of them ) so as, besides those 



252 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

that were found dead, many more were killed and sunk into 
the mire, and never were minded more by friend or foe." 

Can any one read this plain, unvarnished tale, without ad- 
miring the stern resolution, the unbending pride, the loftiness 
of spirit, that seemed to nerve the hearts of these self-taught 
heroes, and to raise them above the instinctive feelings of 
human nature ? When the Gauls laid waste the city of 
Rome, they found the senators clothed in their robes, and 
seated with stern tranquillity in their circle chairs ; in this 
manner they suffered death without resistance or even sup. 
plication. Such conduct was, in them, applauded as noble 
and magnaminous ; in the hapless Indians it was reviled as 
obstinate and sullen. How truly are we the dupes of show 
and circumstance ! How different is virtue, clothed in pur- 
pie and enthroned in state, from virtue naked and destitute, 
and perishing obscurely in a wilderness ! 



LESSON XXVII. 
WASHINGTON, A TEACHER TO THE YOUNG. —Anonymous. 

There is no name in the annals of any country more re« 
vered than that of George Washington. It is a matter of 
interest to inquire how he became so good and great, and 
how he obtained so desirable a reputation ; how he was able 
to do so much good to his country, and to mankind ; how he 
was qualified to leave behind him so excellent an example ; 
how he acquired that great wisdom which guided him in life, 
and prepared him for death — which made him, like Moses in 
ancient days, the leader of a nation through a wilderness of 
trial, and suffering, and danger, — and now that he has been 
dead more than forty years, renders him still the teacher, not 
only of the United States, but all the civilized world. 

It is a good plan for every one who wishes to be useful, 
good and happy, to study the story of Washington, and see 
how it was that he became so useful, so good, and so happy. 
It is only by study that we can gain knowledge ; and the best 
way to find out the path of duty and of success, is carefully 
to read the history of those who have been successful. 

George Washington was born in Virginia, on the 22d of 
February, 1732. His father was a wealthy planter ; but he 
died in 1743, when George was eleven years old. He was, 



LESSONS FOR READING. 253 

therefore, left to the care of his mother, who was a good and 
wise woman. 

Now you must remember that when Washington was a 
b°y> y oun g people had not the advantages that they have now. 
In Virginia there were no academies, high-schools, or col- 
leges. He had, therefore, only the privileges of a common 
school education, where writing, reading, arithmetic, and a 
little of geometry, were taught. 

Now some boys with these simple helps had never been 
great ; the reason why they were sufficient for Washington, 
I will tell you. In the first place, he had a good mother, 
who, like almost all good mothers, frequently counseled and 
advised her son to make the best use of his time at school ; 
to pay attention to his lessons, to learn them well, and thus, 
not only to store his mind with knowledge, but to get into the 
habit of studying thoroughly, and of improving his mind. 
In the second place, Washington had the good sense, the virtue, 
and the wisdom to mind his mother in these things. These are 
the two great reasons why a common-school education was 
sufficient for so great a man, and they are the two chief rea- 
sons why he became so great. 

Now this shows that the advantages a boy possesses are of 
less consequence than the way in which he improves them. 
A boy may be sent to a high-school, and go through college, 
and liave good natural capacity, and yet turn out to be a 
useless, weak, and ignorant man. Merely going through a 
high-school, or an academy, or a college, cannot make a good, 
useful, or great man. In order to be good, useful, great, 
or even happy, it is necessary in youth to do as Washington 
did. 

Another thing to be noticed here is, that Washington had 
none of that folly which some boys think smartness, or a 
mark of genius, or manliness — a disposition to disobey a 
mother or a schoolmaster. Washington was obedient to both 
of them. If, therefore, a boy wishes to be successful in life, 
let him cultivate obedience to parents and teachers. 

One of the great advantages that followed from Washing- 
ton's making the best of his school privileges was, his adopt- 
ing good habits. He got into the habit of doing everything 
thoroughly. He was not willing to learn a lesson by halves, 
and when he came to recite, to guess and shuffle his w T ay 
out. No, indeed! He did not leave a lesson till he had 
mastered it— till he knew all about it — till he had stamped 
it so firmly in his mind as to make the impression indelible. 

22 



254 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

The reason why habits are so important, is, that they 
hang about a person, and actually guide him through life. 
How important it is therefore that we form good habits. 

If a boy gets the habit of studying in a half-way, slovenly, 
slip-shod manner, he is almost certain to be greatly injured 
thereby. ' If he goes to college, he there continues the same 
habit ; when he comes out, he still carries it with him ; 
when he enters upon business, it still hangs about him. He 
does nothing well, or thoroughly ; he is careless and slovenly 
in all he does ; there is imperfection and weakness in his 
career, and finally he turns out an unsuccessful man. If he 
is a merchant, he usually fails in business ; if a lawyer, a 
physician, or minister, he is generally at the tail-end of his 
profession, poor, useless, and despised. Such is the mighty 
influence of our habits ; and remember that they are formed 
in early life. Remember that every day feeds and fosters 
our habits. 

It is interesting to trace the way that Washington's youth- 
ful habits operated upon him. Some of his early school- 
books are extant, and these show that he was very thorough 
in writing. He even took pains to write out, in a fine hand, 
the forms in which notes of hand, bills of exchange, receipts, 
bonds, deeds, wills, should be drawn. Thus he cultivated 
the habit of writing neatly, of being patient in copying pa- 
pers, of being accurate in making copies ; and at the same 
time made himself acquainted with the forms of drawing up 
business documents. In all this, we see the habit of doing 
things patiently, accurately, and thoroughly. We see that 
Washington had so trained himself, that he could sit down 
and do that which was mere toil, and which some boys would 
think stupid drudgery. 

Another thing that is remarkable at this early period of 
Washington's life, is, that in writing he was careful to study 
neatness and mechanical precision. Several quires of his 
school-manuscripts remain, in which he worked out questions 
in arithmetic and mathematics. These manuscripts are very 
neatly executed ; there are several long sums which are 
nicely done and beautifully arranged. There are, also, ex- 
tensive columns of figures, and all set down with careful 
precision. 

Another thing visible in these manuscripts, is, that Wash- 
ington studied accuracy ; his sums were all right. What a 
beautiful illustration of the great man's life ! His youthful 
manuscripts show that he learned to render his school-boy 



LESSONS FOR READING. 255 

pages fair ; to work out all his sums right. Thus he started 
in life — and thus he became qualified to make the pages of 
his history glorious ; the footing up of his great account 
such as the sentiment of justice throughout the world would 
approve ! 

Another thing that had great influence in the formation of 
Washington's character, and in securing success in life, was, 
that very early he adopted a code or system of rules of be- 
havior. This was found among his papers after his death, 
in his own hand-writing, and written at the age of thirteen. 
I will give you a few extracts from this code of manners, or 
rules of conduct : 

EXTRACTS. 

Every action in company ought to be with some sign of 
respect to those present. 

Be no flatterer, neither play with any one that delights not 
to be played with. 

Read no letters, books, or papers in company. 

Come not near the books or papers of another so as to 
read them. 

Look not over another when he is writing a letter. 

Let your countenance be cheerful, but in serious matters 
be grave. 

Show not yourself glad at another's misfortune. 

Let your discourse with others on matters of business be 
short. 

It is good manners to let others speak first. 

Strive not with your superiors in argument, but be modest. 

When a man does all he can, do not blame him though he 
succeeds not well. 

Take admonitions thankfully. 

Be not hasty to believe flying reports to the injury of 
another. • 

In your dress, be modest, and consult your condition. 

Play not the peacock, looking vainly at yourself. 

It is better to be alone than in bad company. 

Let your conversation be without malice or envy. 

Urge not your friend to discover a secret. 

Break not a jest where none take pleasure in mirth. 

Speak not injurious words either in jest or earnest. 

Gaze not on the blemishes of others. 

When another speaks, be attentive. 

Be not apt to relate news. 

Be not curious to know the affairs of others. 



256 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Speak not evil of the absent. 

When you speak of God, let it ever be with reverence. 

Labor to keep alive in your heart that spark of heavenly 
fire called conscience. 

Such are some of those rules that Washington wrote out 
in a fair hand at thirteen. Most of these rules turn on one 
great principle, which is, that you treat others with respect ; 
that you are tender of the feelings, and rights, and charac- 
ters of others ; that you do to others as you would have 
others do to you. 

But another thing, also, is to be considered, which is, that 
Washington not only had a set of good rules of behavior, all 
written out in a fair hand and committed to memory, but he 
was in the habit of observing them ,* and he not only observed 
them when a child, but after he became a man. He got into 
the habit o£^beying every one of these rules, and thus it 
was that his manners were always so dignified, kind, and 
noble ; thus it was that his character and conduct became so 
great and good. 

Now, I would not have my readers suppose that Wash- 
ington was always a man ; on the contrary, when he was a 
boy, he loved fun as well as any body. He liked to run, to 
leap, to wrestle, and play at games. He had a soldierly 
turn, even in boyhood, and was fond of heading a troop of 
boys, and marching them about with a tin kettle for a drum. 

Washington, too, was quick-tempered and passionate when 
a boy ; but the beauty of his story in this point is, that by 
adopting good habits and principles he overcame these ten- 
dencies of his nature, and he showed that all quick-tempered 
boys can do the same, if they please. They can govern their 
tempers ; they can adopt good rules of conduct ; they can 
get into the habit of being calm, patient and just, and thus 
grow up to hojior and usefulness. 

There are many other traits of character belonging to Wash- 
ington that are interesting and worthy of imitation. He was 
accurate and just in all his dealings ; he was punctual in 
the performance of promises ; he was a man of prayer, and 
an observer of the Sabbath. And the point here to be no- 
ticed by youth, is, that all these qualities which we have 
been noticing, appear to be the fruit of seed sown in his 
youth. They appear all to have taken root in one great 
principle — OBEDIENCE — obedience to his mother, obedi- 
ence to his teachers — obedience to a sense of duty formed 
into habit in early life. This is the real source of Washing- 



LESSONS FOR READING. 257 

ton's greatness. He was not made greater or better than 
most others, but he adopted good habits, and under their in- 
fluence he became great. 

Another thing to be observed, is, that in adopting good 
habits, Washington rejected bad ones. He was guilty of no 
profanity ; no rudeness or harshness of speech ; he had no 
vulgar love of eccentricity ; he affected not that kind of 
smartness which displays itself in irregularity or excess ; 
he did not think it clever to disobey teachers or parents ; he 
was no lover of scandal, or of profane and rude society. 

The teaching, then, of Washington's example is this : 
study obedience, patience, industry, thoroughness, accuracy, 
neatness, respect to the rights and feelings of others, and 
make these things habitual — rail-tracks in the mind. The 
path of obedience is the path to glory ; the path of disobedi- 
ence is the path of failure and disappointment in the race of 
life. 



LESSON XXVIII. 

THE DUTIES OF SCHOOL-BOYS.— Rollin. 

Almost all the duty of scholars has been included in this 
one piece of advice, To love those who teach them, as they 
love the knowledge which they derive from them ; and to 
look upon them as fathers, from whom they derive, not the 
life of the body, but that instruction, which is, in a manner, 
the life of the soul. Indeed, this sentiment of affection and 
respect suffices to make them apt to learn during the time of 
their studies, and full of gratitude all the rest of their lives. 
It seems to me to include a great part of what is to be ex- 
pected from them. — Docility, which consists in submitting to 
directions, in readily receiving the instructions of their mas- 
ters, and reducing them to practice, is properly the virtue 
of scholars, as that of masters is to teach well. The one 
can do nothing without the other ; and as it is not sufficient 
for a laborer to sow the seed, unless the earth, after having 
opened its bosom to receive it, in a manner hatches, warms, 
and moistens it ; so likewise the good fruit of instruction 
depends upon a good correspondence between the masters 
and the scholars. Gratitude to those who have labored in 
our education, is the character of an honest man, and the 
22* 



258 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

mark of a good heart. Who is there among us, says an 
ancient orator, that has been instructed with any care, who 
is not highly delighted with the sight, or even the bare re- 
membrance of his teachers, and of the place where he was 
taught and brought up. An ancient philosopher exhorts 
young men to preserve always a great respect for their 
masters, to whose care they are indebted for the amendment 
of their faults, and for having imbibed sentiments of honor 
and probity. Their exactness and severity displeases some- 
times at an age, when we are not in a condition to judge of 
the obligations we owe to them ; but, when years have ripen- 
ed our understanding and judgment, we then discern, that 
what made us dislike them, is expressly the very thing 
which should make us esteem and love them. — Another em- 
inent writer of antiquity, after having noted the different 
characters of the mind in children, draws, in a few words, 
the image of what he judged to be a perfect scholar, and 
certainly it is a very amiable one. " For my part," says 
he, " I like a child who is encouraged by commendation, is 
animated by a sense of glory, and weeps when he is outdone. 
A noble emulation will always keep him in exercise, a rep- 
rimand will touch him to the quick, and honor will serve 
instead of a spur. We need not fear that such a scholar will 
ever give himself up to sullenness." How great a value 
soever this writer puts upon the talents of the mind, he es- 
teems those of the heart far beyond them, and looks upon the 
other as of no value without them. He declares, he should 
never have a good opinion of a child, who placed his study 
in occasioning laughter, by mimicking the behavior, mien, 
and faults of others. " A child," says he, cannot be truly 
ingenious, in my opinion, unless he be good and virtuous : 
I should rather choose to have him dull and heavy, than of 
a bad disposition." 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



PART FIFTH. 



DIALOGUES FOR SPEAKING OR READING, 





These Figures represent two boys making their bows preparatory to 
speaking a dialogue. They should enter, if convenient, at opposite sides 
of the platform ; then, having placed themselves at a suitable distance from 
each other, and standing in a position directly front, one should bow to the 
right, and the other to the left portion of the audience. This arrange- 
ment will not only be pleasing to the eye, but indicate a sentiment of pro- 
priety and respect. The speaker on the left of the audience, should per- 
form his bow precisely as directed on page 94 ; the one on the right will 
deviate in this particular, — he will begin by sliding out the left foot instead 
of the right. In other respects his bow is entirely similar to that of his 
companion. — Some dialogues do not admit of the bow ; as, for instance, 
where the parties are supposed to meet in great haste, or with highly ex- 
cited feelings. In all cases where it is proper, however, it is certainly very 
becoming, — and the pupil will aim to do it well. Let him be in love with 
neatness and simplicity, and he can hardly fail to be correct and graceful. 



260 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

LESSON I. 

CHOICE OF HOURS.— Mrs. Gilman. 

FIRST SPEAKER SECOND SPEAKER. 

First Speaker. 
I love to walk at twilight, 

When sunset nobly dies, 
And see the parting splendor 

That lightens up the skies, 
And call up old remembrances 

Deep, dim as evening gloom, 
Or look to heaven's promises, 

Like star-light on a tomb. 

Second Speaker. 
I love the hour of darkness 

When I give myself to sleep, 
And I think that holy angels 

Their watch around me keep. 
My dreams are light and happy 

As I innocently lie, 
For my mother's kiss is on my cheek, 

And my father's step is nigh. 



LESSON II. 

CONSCIENCE.— Anonymous. 
YOUNGER BROTHER ELDER BROTHER. 

Younger Brother. 
I have a little voice within, 
That always tells me when I sin ; 
I'm sure I know not whence it came, 
Pray, brother, tell me what's its name ? 
There is no one however near, 
Whispers so sternly in my ear ; 
And often in my lively play, 
If anything I do or say 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 261 

That's wrong or wicked, then I hear 

This gentle tapping in my ear. 

I know it is not mother's tone, 

Nor Father's, for when they are gone, 

It keeps on prompting just the same, 

If aught I do that they would blame. 

Elder Brother. 
And, brother, don't it always tell 
In kindly notes when youv'e done well ; 
Are not its whispers always mild, 
When you have been a dutious child ? 
God gave not to the bad nor flower, 
This inward voice of wondrous power : 
Ah, no, it only has its birth 
In us, who perish not with earth ; 
Its name is conscience, and 'twill be 
A voice from which you cannot flee ; 
It keeps a registry within, 
Rebuking those who live in sin, 
And utters words of softest tone, 
To those who will its dictates own. 



LESSON III. 

FREEDOM'S JUBIELE.— Hewitt. 
BOY — FATHER. 

Bop. 
Father, look up and see that flag, 

How gracefully it flies — 
Those pretty stripes — they seem to be 

A rainbow in the skies. 

Father. 
It is your country's flag, my son, 

And proudly drinks the light ; 
O'er ocean's wave, in foreign climes, 

A symbol of our might. 

Boy. 
Father, what fearful noise is that, 
Like thundering in the clouds ? 



262 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Why do the people wave their hats, 
And rush along in crowds 1 

Father. 
It is the voice of cannonry — 

The glad shouts of the free ; 
This is a day to memory dear — 

'Tis Freedom's Jubilee. 

Boy. 
I wish that I was now a man, 

I 'd fire my cannon too ; 
And cheer as loudly as the rest — 

But, father, why don't you ? 

Father. 
I am getting old, and weak — but still 

My heart is big with joy ; 
I've witnessed many a day like this — 

Shout you aloud my boy. 

Boy. 

Hurrah ! for Freedom's Jubilee ! 

God bless our native land ! 
And may I live to hold the boon 

Of Freedom in my hand! 

Father. 
Well done, my boy — grow up and love 

The land that gave you birth — 
A land where freedom loves to dwell — 

A paradise on earth, 



LESSON IV. 

HOT COCKLES— Anonymous. 
HENRY CHARLES. 

Charles. Brother, all our friends have left us, and yet I 
am still in a playful humor. What game shall we choose ? 

Henry. There are only two of us, and I am afraid we 
should not be much diverted. 

Charles. Let us play at something, however. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 263 

Henry. But at what ? 

Charles. At blindman's-bufF, for instance. 

Henry. That is a game that would never end. It would 
not be as if there were a dozen, of which number some are 
generally off their guard ; but where there are only two, I 
should not find it difficult to shun you, nor you me ; and then 
when we had caught each other, we should know for certain 
who it was. 

Charles. That is true, indeed. Well, then, what think 
you of hot cockles ? 

Henry. That would be the same, you know. We could 
not possibly guess wrong. 

Charles. Perhaps we might. However, let us try. 

Henry. With all my heart, if it please you. Look here, 
if you like it, I will be Hot Cockles first. 

Charles. Do, brother. Put your right hand on the bot- 
tom of this chair. Now stoop down and lay your face close 
upon it, that you may not see. {He does so.) That is well ; 
— and now your left hand on your back. Well master — but 
I hope your eyes are shut. (Carefully looking round to see.) 

Henry. Yes, yes ; do not be afraid. 

Charles. Well, master, what have you to sell ? 

Henry. Hot cockles ! hot ! 

Charles. (Slapping him with his left hand.) Who struck ? 

Henry. (Getting up.) Why, you, you little goose ! 

Charles. Yes, yes ; but with which hand ? 

Henry. The — the right ! 

Charles. No, it was the left. Now you are the goose. 



LESSON V. 

THE CHILD'S FIRST GRIEF.— Mrs. Hemans. 
CHILD — FATHER. 

Child. 
O, call my brother back to me, 

I cannot play alone ; 
The summer comes with flower and bee, — 

Where is my brother gone 1 

The butterfly is glancing bright 
Across the sunbeam's track ; 



264 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

I care not now to chase its flight — 
O call my brother back ! 

The flowers run wild, — the flowers we sowed 

Around our garden -tree ; 
Our vine is drooping with its load — 

O call him back to me ! 

Father. 
He would not hear my voice, fair child ! 

He may not come to thee ; 
The face that once, like spring-time smiled, 

On earth no more thou 'It see. 

The rose's brief, bright light of joy, 
Such unto him was given ; — 

Go, — thou must play alone, my boy ! 
Thy brother is in heaven. 

Child. 
And has he left his bird and flowers ? 

And must I call in vain ? 
And through the long, long summer hours, 

Will he not come again ? 

And by the brook, and in the glade, 
Are all our wanderings o'er ? 

Oh ! while my brother with me played, 
Would I had loved him more ! 



LESSON VI. 

CHILDREN'S WISHES.— Mrs. Gilman. 

FIRST SPEAKER — SECOND SPEAKER — THIRD SPEAKER FOURTH 

SPEAKER. 



First Speaker. 
I wish I was a little bird, 

Among the leaves to dwell ; 
To scale the sky in gladness 

Or seek the lonely dell. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 265 

My matin song should celebrate 

The glory of the earth ; 
And my vesper hymn ring gladly, 

With the thrill of careless mirth. 

Second Speaker. 
I wish I were a floweret. 

To blossom in the grove ; 
I 'd spread my opening leaflets 

Among the plants I love, — 
No hand should roughly cull me, 

And bid my odors fly ; 
I silently would ope to life, 

And quietly w r ould die. 

Third Speaker. 
I wish I was a gold fish, 

To seek the sunny wave, 
To part the gentle ripple, 

And amid its coolness lave; 
I 'd glide through day delighted, 

Beneath the azure sky, 
And when night came on in softness, 

Seek the star-light's milder eye. 

Fourth Speaker. 
Hush, hush, romantic prattlers, 

You know not what you say, 
When soul, the crown of mortals, 

You would lightly throw away : 
What is the songster's warble, 

And the floweret's blush refined, 
To the noble thought of Deity, 

Within your opening mind ? 



LESSON VII. 
THINGS BY THEIR RIGHT NAMES. 

FATHER CHARLES. 

Charles. Papa, you grow very lazy I think. You used 
to tell me a great many stories, but now you hardly ever tell 

23 



2(j6 the young speaker. 

me any. I wish you would tell me a very pretty one, dear 
papa. 

Father. Well, with all my heart — what shall it be ? 

Charles. A bloody murder, papa ! 

Father. A bloody murder! Well then — Once upon a 
time, some men, dressed all alike 

Charles. With black crape over their faces ? 

Father. No ; they had steel caps on : — having crossed a 
dark heath, wound cautiously along the skirts of a deep for- 
est 

Charles. They were ill-looking fellows, I dare say. 

Father. I cannot say so ; on the contrary, they were tall 
personable men as most one shall see : — leaving on their 
right hand an old ruined tower on the hill 

Charles. At midnight, just as the clock struck twelve ; 
was it not, papa ? 

Father. No, really ; it was on a fine balmy summer's 
morning : — and moved forward, one behind another 

Charles. As still as death, creeping along under the 
hedges. 

Father. On the contrary — they walked remarkably up- 
right ; and so far from endeavoring to be hushed and still, 
they made a loud noise as they came along, with several 
sorts of instruments. 

Charles. But, papa, they would be found out immedi- 
ately. 

Father. They did not seem to wish to conceal themselves ; 
on the contrary, they gloried in what they were about. — They 
moved forward, I say, to a large plain, where stood a neat 
pretty village, which they set on fire 

Charles. Set a village on fire ? wicked wretches! 

Father. And while it was burning, they murdered twenty 
thousand men. 

Charles. O fie ! papa ! you do not intend I should believe 
this ; I thought all along you were making up a tale, as you 
often do ; but you shall not catch me this time. What ! they 
lay still, I suppose, and let these fellows cut their throats ! 

Father. No, truly, they resisted as long as they could. 

Charles. How should these men kill twenty thousand 
people, pray ? 

Father. Why not ? the murderers were thirty thousand. 

Charles. O, now I have found you out — I understand 
you ! You mean a battle. 

Father. Indeed I do. I do not know of any murderers 
half so bloody. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 



267 





These Figures represent two boys in the act of speaking a dialogue. 
The one addressed is in the second position ; it is not necessary, nor, per- 
haps, proper, to keep in this position all the time the other speaker is de- 
claiming, but it will be well, in general, to assume it, at least before the 
reply is made. It will enable the respondent to come into the first posi- 
tion as he begins, and thus impart, life and beauty to his action. Whether 
he change or not, however, must depend somewhat upon the style of the 
composition and the spirit of his part. The pupil will notice, particularly, 
that the breast of each Figure is full front to the audience. This is a 
point of considerable importance. Whether the speakers be two or a 
greater number, each must stand in such a manner, that the language of 
his countenance shall be as distinct to the eye, as that of his voice is to the 
ear. The dialogue is between the speakers, but it is intended for the 
amusement or gratification of the audience. How ill-bred it appears when 
we see boys thus engaged, standing directly face to face, and almost turn- 
ing their backs to those who have kindly assembled to witness their juve- 
nile performances, in an art, which more than almost any other, perhaps, 
demands of its votaries, taste, skill, and propriety of deportment. 



LESSON VIII. 
WAR SONG OF THE REVOLUTION.— Anonymous. 



OFFIC ERS SOLDIERS. 

This is a good selection for class or concert speaking — the officers should 
be six, or any other reasonable number, arranged on one side, and the 
soldiers twenty or more. 

Officers. 
Arm, arm for the battle — Invasion has come — 
His shadow has darkened our soil. 



268 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Soldiers. 
We are ready — all ready — our sword shall strike home, 
Ere the robber has gathered his spoil. 

Officers. 
Arm, arm for the battle — 'tis liberty calls, 
The tyrants are leagued as her foe. 

Soldiers. 
We are ready — all ready — our hearts are her walls, 
Which tyrants will never o'erthrow. 

Officers. 
Arm, arm for the battle — our children and wives 
Are sinking with terrors oppressed. 

Soldiers. 
We are ready — all ready — and pledged are our lives, 
That these dear ones in safety shall rest. 

Officers. 
Arm, arm for the battle — and cowards may fly — 
The foe like a torrent sweeps on. 

Soldiers. 
We are ready — all ready — we'll shout ere we die — 
Hurrah ! for the battle is won. 



LESSON IX. 

WINTER.— Anonymous. 
FIRST SPEAKER SECOND SPEAKER. 

First Speaker. 
How dreary is winter ! how sad is the hour 
When the bleak winds have scattered the leaves from the 
bower, 
And the snow on the meadow lies cold ! 

Second Speaker. 
How pleasant is winter, how sweet is the day, 
When blessed with the warmth of the fire's cheering ray, 
With our friends sweet communion we hold. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 269 

First Speaker. 
The voice of the songsters can cheer us no more, 
Their days of rejoicing and pleasure are o'er — 
To the southward they've taken their way. 

Second Speaker. 
'Tis the time for reflection, when winter appears, 
When our thoughts may ascend from this valley of tears, 
To the regions of infinite day. 

First Speaker. 
'Tis an emblem of life, when the spring time is past, 
And dreary old age is approaching at last, 
And the sun is unclouded no more. 

Second Speaker. 
*Tis an emblem of purity, free from a stain, 
Of such as in Heaven forever shall reign, 
When the tempests of life-time are o'er. 



LESSON X. 
THE CHILDREN'S CHOICE.— Mrs. Gilman. 
MOTHER, (OR FATHER,) JOHN WILLIAM. 

John. 
I mean to be a soldier 

With uniform quite new, 
I wish they 'd let me have a drum, 

And be a captain too, — 
I would go amid the battle, 

With my broad sword in my hand, 
And hear the cannon rattle, 

And the music all so grand. 

Mother, (or Father.) 

My son ! my son ! what if that sword 

Should strike a noble heart, 
And bid some loving father 

From his little ones depart ? 
What comfort would your waving plumes, 

And brilliant dress bestow, 
23* 



270 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

When you thought upon his widow's tears 
And her orphan's cry of woe. 

William. 
I mean to be a President, 

And rule each rising state, 
And hold my levees once a week, 

For all the gay and great : 
I'll be a king, except a crown, 

For that they won't allow, 
And I '11 find out what the tariff is, 

That puzzles me so now. 

Mother, (or Father.) 
My son ! my son ! the cares of state, 

Are thorns upon the breast, 
That ever pierce the good man's heart, 

And rob him of his rest : 
The great and gay to him appear, 

As trifling as the dust, 
For he knows how little they are worth, 

How faithless is their trust. 
Oh ! children, sad it makes my soul 

To hear your playful strain ; 
I cannot bear to chill your path 

With images of pain — 
Yet humbly take what God bestows, 

And, like his own fair flowers, 
Look up in sunshine with a smile, 

And gently bend in showers. 



LESSON XI. 

LIFE, DEATH, AND ETERNITY. —Anonymous. 

FIRST SPEAKER SECOND SPEAKER— THIRD SPEAKER. 

First Speaker. 

A shadow moving by one's side, 

That would a substance seem, 
That is, yet is not, — though descried, — 

Like skies beneath the stream : 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 271 

A tree that's ever in the bloom, 

Whose fruit is never ripe ; 
A wish for joys that never come, — 

Such are the hopes of Life. 

Second Speaker. 
A dark, inevitable night, 

A blank that will remain ; 
A waiting for the morning light, 

When waiting is in vain ; 
A gulf where pathway never led, 

To show the deep beneath ; 
A thing we know not, yet we dread, — 

That dreaded thing is Death. 

Third Speaker. 
The vaulted void of purple sky, 

That every where extends, 
That stretches from the dazzled eye, 

In space that never ends ; 
A morning whose uprisen sun 

No setting e'er shall see ; 
A day that comes without a noon, — 

Such is Eternity. 



LESSON XII. 
THE WORLD.— Anonymous. 

FIRST CHILD SECOND CHILD. 

First Child. How beautiful the world is! The green 
earth covered with flowers — the trees laden with rich blos- 
soms—the blue sky, the bright water, and the golden sun- 
shine. The world is, indeed, beautiful, and He who made 
it must be beautiful. 

Second Child. It is a happy world. Hark ! how the 
merry birds sing — and the young lambs — see ! how they 
gambol on the hill-side. Even the trees wave and the brooks 
ripple in gladness. Yon Eagle ! — Ah ! how joyously he 
soars up to the glorious heavens — the bird of liberty, the 
bird of America. 

First Child. Yes ; 



272 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

" His throne is on the mountain top ; 
His fields the boundless air ; 
And hoary peaks, that proudly prop 
The skies — his dwellings are. 

" He rises like a thing of light, 
Amid the noontide blaze ; 
The midway sun is clear and bright — 
It cannot dim his gaze " 

Second Child. It is happy — I see it and hear it all about 
me — nay, I feel it — here, in the glow, the eloquent glow of 
my own heart. He who made it must be happy. 

First Child. It is a great world. Look off to the mighty 
ocean when the storm is upon it ; to the huge mountain, 
when the thunder and the lightnings play over it ; to the 
vast forest — the interminable waste, — the sun, the moon, and 
the myriads of fair stars, countless as the sands upon the 
sea-shore. It is a great, a magnificent world, — and He who 
made it, — Oh ! He is the perfection of all loveliness, all 
goodness, all greatness, all gloriousness ! 



LESSON XIII. 
THE LAND OF THE BLEST.— Mrs. Abdy. 

FATHER CHILD. 

Child. 
Dear Father, I ask for my mother in vain, 
Has she sought some far country her health to regain ; 
Has she left our cold climate of frost and of snow, 
For some warm sunny land where the soft breezes blow ? 

Father. 
Yes, yes, gentle boy, thy loved mother has gone 
To a climate where sorrow and pains are unknown ; 
Her spirit is strengthened, her frame is at rest, 
There is health, there is peace, in the Land of the Blest. 

Child. 
Is that land, my dear Father, more lovely than ours — 
Are the rivers more clear, and more blooming the flowers ; 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 273 

Does Summer shine over it all the year long — 

Is it cheered by the glad sounds of music and song ? 

Father. 
Yes, the flowers are despoiled not by winter or night, 
The well-springs of life are exhaustless and bright ; 
And by exquisite voices sweet hymns are addressed 
To the Lord who reigns over the Land of the Blest. 

Child. 
Yet that land to my mother will lonely appear, 
She shrunk from the glance of a stranger, while here ; 
From her foreign companions I know she will flee, 
And sigh, dearest Father, for you and for me. 

Father. 
My darling, thy mother rejoices to gaze 
On the long severed friends of her earliest days ; 
Her parents have there found a mansion of rest, 
And they welcome their child to the Land of the Blest. 

Child. 
How I long to partake of such meetings of bliss, 
That land must be surely more happy than this ; 
On you, my kind Father, the journey depends, — 
Let us go to my mother, her kindred, and friends. 

Father. 
Not on me, love ; I trust I may reach that bright clime, 
But in patience I stay till the Lord's chosen time, 
And must strive while awaiting his gracious behest, 
To guide thy young steps to the Land of the Blest. 

Thou must toil through a world full of dangers, my boy, 
Thy peace it may blight and thy virtue destroy ; 
Nor wilt thou, alas ! be withheld from its snares 
By a mother's fond counsels, a mother's fond prayers. 

Yet fear not — the God whose direction we crave, 
Is mighty to strengthen, to shield, and to save ; 
And his hand may yet lead thee, a glorified guest, 
To the home of thy mother, the Land of the Blest. 



274 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 




These Figures are designed to exhibit positions of the hands and arms 
which a boy may very properly assume, when he is the addressed or lis- 
tening party in a dialogue. To stand, when not speaking, always with 
the hands down by the side, after the manner of the first Figure, on page 
267, however easily and neatly managed, could not produce other than a 
monotonous and unpolished effect. — The first of the three Figures is rep- 
resented with the left arm a kimbo, the hand resting on the belt at the 
point of the hip, with the fingers pressed inward upon the palm ; the second 
has both arms a kimbo, with the hands clasping the hips, having the fingers 
in front; Uhe third Figure presents the arms folded, — the arms are 
crossed and enclose each other, the fingers of the right hand, holding the 
left arm, and the left hand passing under the right arm. This arrange- 
ment of the arms may be reversed at the pleasure of the speaker. These 
positions should not be assumed or changed without discretion ; directed 
by propriety, they are becoming and graceful ; they do not give to the 
speaker an air of false consequence, or affectation — they are appropriate 
and manly. 



LESSON XIV. 

MAN AND WOMAN.— Montgomery. 
FIRST SPEAKER SECOND SPEAKER. 

First Speaker. 

Man is the proud and lofty pine, 

That frowns on many a wave-beat shore ; 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 275 

Second Speaker. 
Woman, the young and tender vine, 
Whose curling tendrils round it twine, 
And deck its rough bark sweetly o'er. 

First Speaker. 
Man is the rock, whose towering crest 
Nods o'er the mountain's barren side ; 

Second Speaker. 
Woman, the soft and mossy vest, 
That loves to clasp its sterile breast, 
And wreathe its brow with verdant pride. 

First Speaker. 
Man is the cloud of coming storm, 
Dark as the raven's murky plume, 

Second Speaker. 
Save w r here the sun-beam, light and warm, 
Of woman's soul — of woman's form, 
Gleams brightly through the gathering gloom. 

First Speaker. 
Yes, 'tis to lovely woman given, 

To soothe our griefs, our woes allay — 
To heal the heart by misery riven — 
Change earth into an embryo heaven — 

And drive life's fiercest cares away. 



LESSON XV. 

STRANGER AND CHILD.— Mrs. Hemans. 

Stranger. 
Why wouldest thou leave me, oh ! gentle child ? 
Thy home on the mountain is bleak and wild, 
A straw-roofed cabin with lowly wall — 
Mine is a fair and pillared hall, 
Where many an image of marble gleams, 
And the sunshine of picture forever streams. 



276 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Child. 
Oh ! green is the turf where my brothers play, 
Through the long bright hours of the summer day ; 
They find the red cup-moss where they climb, 
And they chase the bee o'er the scented thyme, 
And the rocks where the heath-flower blooms they know- 
Stranger ! kind stranger ! oh ! let me go. 

Stranger. 
Content thee, boy ! in my bower to dwell, 
There are sweet sounds which thou lovest well ; 
Flutes on the air in the stilly noon, 
Harps which the wandering breezes tune ; 
And the silvery wood -note of many a bird, 
Whose voice was ne'er in thy mountains heard. 

Child. 
Oh! my mother sings at the twilight's fall, 
A song of the hills far more sweet than all ; 
She sings it under our own green tree, 
To the babe half-slumbering on her knee ; 
I dreamed last night of that music low — 
Stranger ! kind stranger ! oh ! let me go. 

Stranger. 
Thy mother is gone from her cares to rest, 
She hath taken the babe on her quiet breast ; 
Thou wouldest meet her footstep, my boy, no more, 
Nor hear her song at the cabin door. 
Come thou with me to the vineyards nigh, 
And we '11 pluck the grapes of the richest dye. 

Child. 
Is my mother gone from her home away ? — 
But I know that my brothers are there at play ; 
I know they are gathering the fox-glove's bell, 
Or the long fern-leaves of the sparkling well, 
Or they launch their boats where the bright streams flow,. 
Stranger ! kind stranger ! oh ! let me go. 

Stranger. 
Fair child, thy brothers are wanderers now, 
They sport no more on the mountain's brow ; 
They have left the fern by the spring's green side, 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 277 

And the streams where the fairy barks were tried. 
Be thou at peace in thy brighter lot, 
For thy cabin-home is a lonely spot. 

Child. 
Are they gone, all gone from the sunny hill ? 
But the bird and the blue-fly rove o'er it still ; 
And the red deer bound in their gladness free, 
And the heath is bent by the singing bee, 
And the waters leap, and the fresh winds blow, — 
Stranger ! kind stranger ! oh ! let me go. 



LESSON XVI. 

CANUTE'S REPROOF— Aikin. 
Canute, King of England — Oswald, Offa, Courtiers. 

Scene — The sea-side, near Southampton, the tide coming in* 

Canute. Is it true, my friends, what you have so often 
told me, that I am the greatest of monarchs ? 

Of a. It is true, my liege ; you are the most powerful of 
all kings. 

Oswald. We are all your slaves ; we kiss the dust of your 
feet. 

Offa. Not only we, but even the elements, are your 
slaves. The land obeys -you from shore to shore ; and the 
sea obeys you. 

Canute. Does the sea, with its loud boisterous waves, 
obey me ? Will that terrible element be still at my bidding ? 

Of a. Yes, the sea is yours ; it was made to bear your 
ships upon its bosom, and to pour the treasures of the world 
at your royal feet. It is boisterous to your enemies, but it 
knows you to be its sovereign. 

Canute. Is not the tide coming up ? 

Oswald. Yes, my liege ; you may perceive the swell al- 
ready. 

Canute. Bring me a chair, then ; set it here upon the 
sands. 

Offa. Where the tide is coming up, my gracious lord ? 

Canute. Yes, set it just here, {Places himself in the 
chair.} 

24 



878 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Oswald. (Aside.) I wonder what he is going to do! 

Off a. (Aside.) Surely he is not such a fool as to believe us ! 

Canute. O, mighty Ocean ! thou art my subject ; my 
courtiers tell me so ; and it is thy bounden duty to obey me. 
Thus, then, I stretch my sceptre over thee, and command 
thee to retire. Roll back thy swelling waves, nor let them 
presume to wet the feet of me, thy royal master. 

Oswald. (Aside.) I believe the sea will pay very little re- 
gard to his royal commands. 

Offa. See how fast the tide rises ! 

Oswald. The next wave will come up to the chair. It is 
folly to stay ; we shall be covered with salt water. 

Canute. Well, does the sea obey my commands ? If it 
be my subject, it is a very rebellious subject. See how it 
swells, and dashes the angry foam and salt spray over my 
sacred person. (Rises.) Vile sycophants ! did you think I 
was the dupe of your base lies 1 that I believed your abject 
flatteries ? Know, there is only one being whom the sea 
will obey. He is Sovereign of heaven and earth, King of 
kings, and Lord of lords. It is only he who can say to the 
ocean, " Thus far shalt thou go, but no farther, and here 
shall thy proud waves be stayed." A king is but a man ; 
and man is but a worm. Shall a worm assume the power of 
the great God, and think the elements will obey him ? Take 
away this crown, I will never wear it more. May kings 
learn to be humble from my example, and courtiers learn 
truth from your disgrace ! 



LESSON XVII. 

THE BROTHERS.— Sprague. 
FIRST BOY SECOND BOY. 

First Boy. 
We are but two — the others sleep 

Through death's untroubled night ; 
We are but two — Oh let us keep 

The link that binds us bright. 

Second Boy. 
Heart leaps to heart — the sacred flood 
That warms us is the same ; 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 



279 



That good old man — *his honest blood 
Alike we fondly claim. 

First Boy. 
We in one mother's arms were locked, 

Long be her love repaid ; 
In the same cradle we were rocked, 

Round the same hearth we played. 

Second Boy. 
Our boyish sports were all the same, 

Each little joy and woe ; 
Let manhood keep alive the flame 

Lit up so long ago. 

Both. 
We are but two — be that the band 
To hold us till we die ; 



The boy on the left 
— from the audience — 
takes the hand of the 
boy on the right, each, 
at the same time, pass- 
ing his arm affection- 
ately round the neck of 
the other, as will be seen 
by the hands on the up- 




per part of the shoul- 
ders. The arm of the 
boy on the right, passes 
under that of the boy 
on the left. The pla- 
cing of the feet, seen 
in the picture, needs no 
explanation. 



Shoulder to shoulder let us stand, 
Till side by side we lie. 



LESSON XVIII. 
INDIAN CHANT.— Schoolcraft. 



FIRST INDIAN SECOND INDIAN THIRD INDIAN FOURTH INDI- 
AN FIFTH INDIAN SIXTH INDIAN. 

First Indian. 
The eagles scream on high, 
They whet their forked beaks : 



280 THE YOUNG SPEAKER* 

Raise — raise the battle cry, 
'Tis fame our leader seeks. 

Second Indian. 
*Tis fame my soul desires > 

By deeds of martial strife : 
Give — give me warlike fires. 

Or take — ah take my life. 

Third Indian. 
The deer awhile may go 

Unhunted o'er the heath, 
For now I seek a nobler foe^ 

And prize a nobler death* 

Fourth Indian. 

Lance and quiver, club and bow,. 

Now alone attract my sight ; 
I will go where warriors go, 

I will fight where warriors fight. 

Fifth Indian. 
Now my heart with valor burnsv 

I my lance in fury shake ; 
He who falters, he who turns, 

Give him fagot, fire and stake. 

Sixth Indian. 
See my visage scarred and red — - 

See my brows with trophies bright- 
Such the brows that warriors dread- 
Such the trophies of the fight. 



LESSON XIX. 
PATRIOTISM.— Bretson* 

FIRST SPEAKER — -SECOND SPEAKER. 

First Speaker. 

Poor is his triumph, and disgraced his name, 

Who draws the sword for empire^ wealth, and fame : 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 281 

For him, though wealth be blown on every wind, 
Though fame announce him mightiest of mankind, 
Though twice ten nations crouch beneath his blade, 
Virtue disowns him, and his glories fade ; 
For him no prayers are poured, no pseans sung, 
No blessings chanted from a nation's tongue : 
Blood marks the path to his untimely bier ; 
The curse of widows, and the orphan's tear, 
Cry high to heaven for vengeance on his head : 
Alive detested, and accurst when dead ; 
Indignant of his deeds, the muse who sings 
Th' undaunted truth, and scorns to flatter kings, 
Shall show the monster in his hideous form, 
And mark him as an earthquake or a storm. 

Second Speaker. 

Not so the patriot chief, who dared withstand 
The base invaders of his native land ; 
Who made her weal his noblest, only end ; 
Ruled but to serve her ; fought but to defend ; 
Who firmly virtuous, and severely brave, 
Sunk with the freedom that he could not save, 
On worth like his the muse delights to wait ; 
Reveres alike in triumph or defeat ; 
Crowns with true glory, and with spotless fame, 
And honors Pseoli's more than Frederick's name. 



LESSON XX. 

THE CHAMBER OF SICKNESS.— Colton. 
FIRST VOICE SECOND VOICE. 

First Voice. 
How awful the place — how gloomy — how chill ! 
Where the pangs of disease are lingering still, 
And the life-pulse is fluttering in death. 

Second Voice. 
How delightful the place — how peaceful— how bright ; 
There, calmly, and sweetly, the taper's soft light, 
Shines — an image of man's fleeting breath. 
24* 



282 THE YOUNG SPEAKER, 

First Voice. 
There the angel of death on the vitals is preying, 
While beauty and loveliness fast are decaying, 
And life's joys are all fading away. 

Second Voice. 
There the spirits of mercy round the pillow are flying, 
As the angel-smile plays on the lips of the dying, 
And hope cheers the soul with her ray. 

First Voice. 
How the spirit is pained, e'en when loved ones are near, 
Or sympathy bathes its lone couch with a tear ; 
Its hopes are all dead — its joy is despair. 

Second Voice. 
How the holiest endearments that kindred souls cherish, 
Though the mortal decay and its graces all perish, 
Are perfected and purified there. 

First Voice. 
How ghastly the visage of death doth appear, 
How frightful the thought of the shroud and the bier, 
And the blood-crested worm how vile ! 

Second Voice. 
How friendly the hand that faith is now lending, 
How benignant her look o'er the pillow while bending, 
How sweet, how assuring her smile ! 

First Voice. 
There, in triumph, the death-knell is fitfully pealing, 
While the shivering chill to the cold heart is stealing, 
And the life-current warms — no — never. 

Second Voice. 
Hear the joy-speaking voice of some angel calling — 
As the visions of heaven, on the rapt soul are falling, 
And hope — is fruition for ever. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING, 283 

LESSON XXI. 

FATHER'S BIRTH-DAY.— Edgeworth. 

CHERRY PHILIP. 

A new mown field. — Cherry and Philip carrying a large basket 
of green boughs andfiowers. 

Cherry. Here, Philip, let us set it down here, for I am 
quite tired. 

Philip. Tired ! but you must not be tired, Cherry ; con- 
sider that this is our father's birth-day, and we have a great, 
great deal to do! to make his room into a bower with these 
green branches and honey-suckles. Oh, it will be beautiful, 
with roses here and there, in garlands ; and then we must 
make nosegays for papa and mamma, and aunts, and have a 
green bough for every house in the village. Oh ! Cherry, 
indeed you must not say you are tired. 

Cherry. Well I will not : but I may say I am hot, may 
I not ? 

Philip. Hot, are you ? well, so I am, I must confess, hot 
enough, if that 's all : but push your hat back as I do — off 
with this frilikin ruff, that you have about your neck. 
There, now, sit down comfortably, and I will fan you with 
this great green fan. (Fans her with a green bough.) Is not 
that pleasant, Cherry ? 

Cherry. Very pleasant, only I think it makes me hotter af- 
terwards ; besides, it must make you all the time so very hot, 
doing it. Now, Philip, let us make our nosegays ; that will 
cool us best. Here, this moss-rose bud, I '11 have for mam- 
ma. 

Philip. But it is not her birth-day. 

Cherry. But she may have a rose for all that, may not 
she ? Here, Philip, is a beautiful blush-rose for papa. 

Philip. Mamma should have the blush-rose, because she 
is a woman, and blushes. But I will tell you what, Cherry, 
it will not be right to give papa a red, and mamma a white 
rose. 

Cherry. W^iy ? 

Philip. Because it would seem as if they had quarreled. 

Cherj-y. (Laughing.) Quarreled ! 

Philip. (Gravely.) I assure you it is no laughing matter, 

' as you would know if you had read the history of England, 

as I have. A great while ago, in the dark ages, the houses 



284 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

of York and Lancaster — but you are not old enough to un- 
derstand me. 

Cherry. But I know what I am old enough to understand, 
and something that you don't know, Philip. 

Philip. What ? 

Cherry. Oh ! that is a secret. 

Philip. A secret ! and you will not tell it to Philip ! 

Cherry. No, not to Philip, or anybody ; for I was desired 
not. 

Philip. By whom ? 

Cherry. Oh ! by somebody ; but that 's a secret too, and 
I have promised not to tell till the time comes, and the time 
will come this evening, this very evening — after dinner — 
after tea, you will see ! — you will be very much surprised ; 
and you will be very happy ; and you will then know all. 

Philip. I know all now, Cherry. 

Cherry. Oh ! no, indeed, Philip, you do not know about 
Edwin. 

Philip. Yes, but I do. 

Cherry. And about the play ? 

Philip. Oh ! hush ! take care — you promised not to tell. 

Cherry. But since you know it 

Philip. But how do you know that I know it ? 

Cherry. My dear ! did you not say so ? 

Philip. But you might tell me by accident more than I 
know ; and I should be very sorry for that, because it would 
not be right. 

Cherry. Then the best way is for you to tell me, Philip, 
all that you know. 

Philip. All that I know is, that my brother Edwin has 
written a little play, for my father's birth-day. 

Cherry. Ah ! but I know the name. 

Philip. So do I. But come, we must go along. 



LESSON XXII. 
KING ALFRED AND THE PEASANT.— Knowles. 

ALFRED EDWIN. 

Scene — The inside of Edwin* s Mat. 

Edwin. How feel you now ? 
Alfred. As one that hath escaped 
With a rich gem he feared he should be stripped of. 
Edwin. Nay, give not over yet — although the fare 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 285 

I guess is poor to what the board provides, 
You 're wont to sit at. 

Alfred. Rich ! — Was never meat 
Served up at banquet with its seasoning. 
'Tis hunger makes a feast ! No spicery 
Like that of its rare dish ! All else is tasteless ! 
Plain dressing, which the sated palate heeds not ! 

Edwin. How long were you bewildered in the forest? 

Alfred. Since yesternight. 

Edwin. So, we have lost the day ? 

Alfred. We have. 

Edwin. And do you think the country 's lost ? 

Alfred. Not lost. 

Edwin. You say her bands are all dispersed ? 

Alfred. They may collect again. 

Edwin. The king, you say, 
Survived the battle. 

Alfred. Yes. 

Edwin. {After a pause.) The country lives 
If the king lives ! The people love the king. 
The present panic o'er, his banner yet 
Would rally them. Believe you he is safe ? 

Alfred. I hope he is. 

Edwin. No Saxon but hopes that. 

Alfred. Of this be sure- — the storm that sweeps the land 
Blows not aloof from him ; nor long as e'er 
The meanest head 's exposed, will he remain 
Content with shelter ! 

Edwin. Happy were the head 
That by its self-exposing, sheltered him. 

Alfred. You love the king? 

Edwin. Who does not love the king I 
You're sure he left the field with life? 

Alfred. He did. 

Edwin. Unhurt ? 

Alfred. Unhurt. 

Edwin. Thank Heaven ! — Did many men 
Of note escape along with him? 

Alfred. There did. 

Edwin. He 's guarded then ? 

Alfred. No! 

Edwin. No! how's that? 

Alfred. They were commanded from him. 
Edwin. They were traitors 
That did obey. 



286 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



Alfred. Would 'st have them disobey 
The king ? 

Edwin. For the king's sake. 

Alfred. For the king's sake, 
They left him. 

Edwin. How ? 

Alfred. To speed them to their holds, 
And ward them for the king, till he should find 
As many backers as would warrant him 
To take the field again. 

Edwin. He wanders then, 
Perhaps alone. — Perhaps no better furnished 
Than thou hast been. — No charger to assist 
His flight. — No larder to supply him food. 
The leafy penthouse of the forest tree 
Perhaps his roof at night, — its knotted root 
His pillow, — or, at best, he lodges in 
Some sorry shed like this that shelters thee ; 
With such another pallet as hard need 
Will make thee bear to stretch thy limbs upon. 

Alfred. Even so. 

Edwin. Even so ? Why, hast thou e'er shed tears 
To say it with dry eyes, while mine do rain 
That only echo thee ? Would I could find 
My king ! 

Alfred. He 's nearer than thou thinkest. 

Edwin. How ! — What ! 

Alfred. He grasps thee by the hand, and thanks thee for 
His life. 



This posture 
notunfrequent- 
ly, becomes ne- 
cessary, in the 
exercises of 
school exhibi- 
tions, and the 
pupil is some- 
times troubled 
to know how to 
assume it ; he 
has but to re- 
collect, how- 




ever, that he 
should kneel 
upon the knee 
farthest from 
the party ad- 
dressed, and 
the difficulty is 
over. Young 
children and 
rustics, gene- 
rally fall upon 
both knees. 



Edwin. {Kneeling.) My king ! My king ! Sure Providence 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 287 

With its own hand has led thee to my hut. 
I am thy neat-herd, though thou knowest me not. 
Thou art my master, well as king, although 
Before this hour I ne'er set eyes upon thee ! 

Alfred. So near my castle ! Show me to it. 

Edwin. Not to-night. 

Alfred. Why not ? 

Edwin. Delay till morning! Not 
To-night for any cause ! 'Twill be a storm — 
The wind is rising — and as we came in 
I felt a thunder drop. 



LESSON XXIII. 

AMERICAN BOY AND ENGLISH BOY. 

Mrs. Gilman and Mrs. Hemans. 

American Boy speaks. 

Look from the ancient mountains down, 

My noble English boy ! 
Thy country's fields around thee gleam, 

In sunlight and in joy. 

Ages have rolled since foeman's march 

Passed o'er that old firm sod ; 
For well the land hath fealty held 

To freedom and to God ! 

Gaze proudly on, my English boy ! 

And let thy kindling mind 
Drink in the spirit of high thought. 

From every chainless wind. 

Gaze proudly on — gaze further yet, 

My gallant English boy ! 
Yon blue seas bear thy country's flag, 

The billow's pride and joy. 

Those waves in many a fight have closed 

Above her faithful dead ; 
That red cross flag victoriously 

Has floated o'er their bed. 



288 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Lift up thy heart, my English boy ! 

And pray like them to stand, 
Should God so summon thee, to guard 

The altars of the land. 

English Boy speaks. 
And thou, my young American, 

Stand firmly on the earth, 
Where noble deeds and mental power 

Yield titles over birth. 

A hallowed land thou claimest, my boy, 

By early stuggles bought ; 
Heaped up with noble memories, 

And wide, — aye, wide as thought. 

What, though you boast no ancient towers, 
Where ivied streamers twine ? 

The laurel lives upon your soil — 
The laurel, boy, is thine. 

And who shall gaze on yon Hue sea, 

If thou must turn away, 
When thy brave country's stripes and stars, 

Are floating in the day ? 

Thine is a land for patriot thought ; 

There sleep the good and brave ; 
There kneel, my boy, and altars raise 

Above the martyr's grave. 

And when thou r't told of knighthoods shields, 

And English battles won — 
Look up, my boy, and breathe one word — 

The name of Washington. 



LESSON XXIV. 

CHOICE OF COUNTRIES— Mrs. Gilman. 

FIRST SPEAKER — SECOND SPEAKER THIRD SPEAKER FOURTH 

SPEAKER. 



First Speaker. 
I would cross the wide Atlantic, 
And the cliffs of England hail, 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING, 289 

For there my country's fathers 

First set their western sail. 
I would view its domes and palaces, 

And tread each learned hall. 
And on the soil where Newton trod, 

My foot should proudly fall. 
I would gaze upon its landscapes, 

The dell and sunny glade, 
And tread with awe the cloistered aisle, 

Where Addison is laid. 

Second Speaker. 
I would seek the Indian Ocean, 

Where the sea-shell loves to grow, 
Where the tints upon its bosom, 

In gorgeous beauty glow. 
I would chase the parting billow 

For treasures new and rare, 
And with wreaths of blushing coral 

Entwine my waving hair. 

Third Speaker. 
I would be a ship's commander, 

And find the northern pole, 
While o'er untraveled oceans 

My venturous bark should roll. 
Or I 'd seek untrodden islands, 

Amid Antarctic seas, 
And the standard of my country, 

Plant first before the breeze. 

Fourth Speaker. 
The whole broad earth is beautiful 

To minds attuned aright, 
And whereso'er my feet have turned, 

A smile has met my sight. 
The city, with its bustling walk, 

Its splendor, wealth, and power, — 
A ramble by the river side, — 

A passing summer flower ; 
The meadow green, the ocean's swell, 

The forest waving free, 
Are gifts of God, and speak in tones 

Of kindliness to me. 
25 



290 THE YOUNG SPEAKER, 

And oh, where'er my lot is cast, 
Where'er my footsteps roam, 

If those I love are near to me, 
I feel that spot my home. 



LESSON XXV. 

THE TWO ROBBERS.— Aikin. 

ALEXANDER ROBBER — SOLDIERS. 

Scene — Alexander the Great, in his tent. — Guards. — A man 
with a fierce countenance, chained and fettered, brought be- 
fore him. 

Alexander. What, art thou the Thracian robber, of whose 
exploits I have heard so much ? 

Roller- I am a Thracian, and a soldier. 

Alexander. A soldier ! — a thief, a plunderer, an assassin ! 
the pest of the country ! I could honor thy courage, but I 
must detest and punish thy crimes. 

Robber. What have I done of which you can complain ? 

Alexander. Hast thou not set at defiance my authority, 
violated the public peace, and passed thy life in injuring the 
persons and properties of thy fellow-subjects ? 

Robber. Alexander ! I am your captive — I must hear 
what you please to say, and endure what you please to in- 
flict. But my soul is unconquered ; and if I reply at all to 
your reproaches, I will reply like a free man. 

Alexander. Speak freely. Far be it from me to take the 
advantage of my power to silence those with whom I deign 
to converse ! 

Robber. I must then answer your question by another. 
How have you passed your life ? 

Alexander. Like a hero. Ask Fame, and she will tell 
you. Among the brave I have been the bravest : among 
sovereigns, the noblest : among conquerors, the mightiest. 

Robber. And does not Fame speak of me, too ? Was 
there ever a bolder captain of a more valiant band ? Was 
there ever — But I scorn to boast. You yourself know that 
I have not been easily subdued. 

Alexander. Still, what are you but a robber — a base, dis. 
honest robber ? 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 291 

Roller. And what is a conqueror ? Have not you, too, 
gone about the earth like an evil genius, blasting the fair 
fruits of peace and industry ; — plundering, ravaging, killing, 
without law, without justice, merely to gratify an insatiable 
lust for dominion ? All that I have done to a single district 
with a hundred followers, you have done to whole nations 
with a hundred thousand. If I have stripped individuals, 
you have ruined kings and princes. If I have burned a few 
hamlets, you have desolated the most flourishing kingdoms 
and cities of the earth. What is then the difference, but 
that as you were born a king, and I a private man, you have 
been able to become a mightier roller than I ? 

Alexander. But if I have taken like a king, I have given 
like a king. If I have subverted empires, I have founded 
greater. I have cherished arts, commerce, and philosophy. 

Roller. I, too, have freely given to the poor what I took 
from the rich. I have established order and discipline among 
the most ferocious of mankind ; and have stretched out my 
protecting arm over the oppressed. I know, indeed, little of 
the philosophy you talk of ; but I believe neither you nor I 
shall ever repay to the world the mischiefs we have done it. 

Alexander. Leave me — take off his chains, and use him 
well. (Exit Roller.) Are we then so much alike ? — Alex- 
ander to a robber ? — Let me reflect. 



LESSON XXVI. 

TELL'S MEETING WITH HIS PATRIOT FRIENDS.— Knowlss. 

TELL ERNI VERNER FURST. 

Scene — A Lake and Mountains. 

Tell. Ye crags and peaks, I 'm with you once again ! 
I hold to you the hands ye first beheld, 
To show they still are free. Methinks I hear 
A spirit in your echoes answer me, 
And bid your tenant welcome to his home 
Again !— O, sacred forms, how proud you look ! 
How high you lift your heads into the sky ! 
How huge you are ! how mighty, and how free ! 
Ye are the things that tower, that shine — whose smile 



292 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Makes glad — whose frown is terrible — whose forms, 

Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear 

Of awe divine. Ye guards of liberty, 

I 'm with you once again ! I call to you 

With all my voice ! — I hold my hands to you 

To show they still are free. I rush to you 

As though I could embrace you ! 

Erni. {Without.) William! William! 

Tell. Here, Erni, here ! 

Erni enters. 

Erni. You 're sure to keep the time 
That comes before the hour. 

Tell. The hour 
Will soon be here. O when will liberty 
Be here, my Erni ? That J s my thought, which still 
I find beside. Scaling yonder peak, 
I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow 
O'er the abyss : — his broad-expanded wings 
Lay calm and motionless upon the air, 
As if he floated there without their aid, 
By the sole act of his unlorded will, 
That buoyed him proudly up. Instinctively 
I bent my bow ; yet kept he rounding still 
His airy circle, as in the delight 
Of measuring the ample range beneath, 
And round about absorbed, he heeded not 
The death that threatened him. — I could not shoot I 
'Twas liberty ! — I turned my bow aside, 
And let him soar away ! 

Enter Verner and Furst. 

Tell. Here, friends ! — Well met ! — Do we go on ? 

Verner. We do. 

Tell. Then you can count upon the friends you named ? 

Verner. On every man of them. 

Furst. And I on mine, 

Erni. Not one I sounded, but doth count his blood 
As water in the cause ! Then fix the day 
Before we part. 

Verner. No, Erni ; rather wait 
For some new outrage to amaze and rouse 
The common mind, which does not brood so much 
On wrongs gone by, as it doth quiver with 
The sense of present ones. 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 293 

Tell. {To Verner.) I wish with Erni, 
But think with thee. Yet when I ask myself 
On whom the wrongs shall light for which we wait — 
Whose vineyard they'll uproot — whose flocks they'll ravage — 
Whose threshold they'll profane — whose hearth pollute — 
Whose roof they'll fire ? — When this I ask myself, 
And think upon the blood of pious sons, 
The tears of venerable fathers, and 
The shrieks of mothers, fluttering round their spoiled, 
And nestless young — I almost take the part 
Of generous indignation, that doth blush 
At such expense to wait on sober prudence. 

Fur st. Yet it is best. 

Tell. On that we're all agreed ! 
Who fears the issue when the day shall come ? 

Verner. Not I ! 

Furst. Nor I ! 

Erni. Nor I ! 

Tell. I 'm not the man 
To mar this harmony. Nor I, no more 
Than any of you ! You commit to me 
The warning of the rest. Remember, then, 
My dagger sent to any one of you, 
As time may press, is word enough : the others 
I '11 see myself. Our course is clear — 
When next we meet upon this theme, 
All Switzerland shall witness what we do ! 



LESSON XXVII. 

THE LITTLE REBELS. —Anonymous, 

Founded on Fact. 

GEN. HOWE— -HIS AID — SENTINEL GEOKGE JAMES BOYS. 

Scene 1 — Boston Common. — A crowd of Boys assembled near 
the Skating Pond. 

George. Here it is again, boys. The ice is all broken in 
by the red- coats. We shall have no fun to-day. 

James. I wish we were not boys. If I were big enough 
to carry a sword and a musket, 1 would drive 'em out of the 

25* 



294 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

land, faster than neighbor Tuft's dog ever went out of fa- 
ther's store. 

George. And what if we are boys ? I, for one, have no 
mind to bear this treatment any longer. 

All. Right, George, right ! 

James. But what can we do, boys ? 

George. I'll tell you. Form a line of march, and with 
drum, and fife, and colors, wait upon General Howe, at his 
tent, and tell him we will not be insulted by British soldiers, 
nor any other soldiers. 

All. Hurra! Hurra! Hurra! (Exeunt.) (A short pause, 
and then again ringing without.) Hurra! Hurra! Hurra! 

Scene 2 — General Howe's Head Quarters. — A sentinel pacing 

before the door with a musket over his shoulder. — Noise 

of fife and drum at a distance. 

Sentinel. What in the name of wonder can that be 1 Are 
they up in arms again in this rascally town ? A troop of a 
hundred boys, as I live. An Indian painted on their flag, 
and no sign of the English Cross. Oh; the land is full of 
rebellion. It is full of it, and running over. (The hoys halt 
in front of the tent, and George approaches the sentinel, with 
the standard in his hand.) 

George. Is General Howe at home ? 

Sentinel. Who are you 1 

George. We are Boston boys, Sir. 

Sentinel. And what do you want here ? 

George. We come for our rights ; and we wish to speak 
to the British general. 

Sentinel. The British general has better business than 
listening to a parcel of ragamuffin little rebels ; I shall do 
none of your messages. 

George. As you please, Sir ; but here we wait till we see 
General Howe. We will see him ; and he shall do us jus- 
tice. 

All. Hurra ! Hurra ! Hurra ! 

Sentinel. That, you little rascals, would be to hang you 
and your cowardly countrymen. I suppose you are making 
all this fuss about the little dirty pond on the common, that 
don't at the best hold water enough to fill a sizeable Dutch 
milk pan. 

All. Cowards, do you call us ! Say it again if you dare. 
(General Howe and one of his aids step out.) 

General. What is the matter here ? why is this disturb- 
ance ? 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 295 

George. General Howe, we come to complain of the 
insults and the outrages of your soldiers. They break our 
kite strings, ruin our skating pond, and steal our drums from 
us. We have spoken more than once, to no purpose ; and 
now we have come to say, that we cannot, and we will not 
endure it any longer. 

General. {Aside to his Aid.) Good Heavens ! liberty is 
in the very air, and the boys breathe it. {To the Boys.) Go 
my brave lads ; you have the word of General Howe that 
your sports shall never be disturbed again, without punish- 
ment to the offender. Does that satisfy you ? 

George. Yes, General Howe 3 and in the name of my 
country I present you thanks. 

General. No thanks ; you are brave boys, you are English 
boys ; I see plainly, you are English boys. 

AIL No Sir, Yankees— Yankees — Yankee boys, Sir. 
Hurra ! Hurra ! ( The drum strikes up, and the little hand 
march off with flying colors.) 



LESSON XXVIII. 

ALFRED THE GREAT.— Aikin. 

Alfred, King of England. — Gubba, a Farmer. — Gandelin, 
his Wife. — Ella, an Officer of Alfred. — Soldiers. 

Scene I— The Isle of Athelney. 

Alfred, How retired and quiet is every thing in this lit- 
tle spot ! The river winds its silent waters round this re- 
treat ; and the tangled bushes of the thicket, fence it in from 
the attack of an enemy. The bloody Danes have not yet 
pierced into this wild solitude. I believe I am safe from their 
pursuit. But I hope I shall find some inhabitants here, oth- 
erwise I shall die of hunger. — Ha ! here is a narrow path 
through the wood ; and I think I see the smoke of a cottage 
rising between the trees. I will bend my steps thither. 
{Going.) 

Gubba. {Enters.) Holloa ! Holloa ! Stranger ! 

Alfred. Good even to you, good man ; do you live near ? 

Gubba. I do. 

Alfred. Are you disposed to show hospitality to a poor 
traveler ? 

Gubba. Why truly there are so many poor travelers now. 
a-days, that if we entertain them all, we shall have nothing 



296 



THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 



left for ourselves. However, come along to my wife, and 
we will see what can be done for you — come along. 




When a number of characters appear at the same time, it is important 
that they should be properly and tastefully grouped. The arrangement 
should be, at once, natural and picturesque. In the above example, Alfred, 
the person of greatest consequence, occupies a central position ; next in 
rank, Ella, his faithful officer, is placed on the right ; while the cottagers, 
Gubba and his wife, have their station on the left ; the soldiers fill up the 
hack-ground. The characters immediately in front, should stand in a line 
not straight, but somewhat circular. The distances between them should 
also be well preserved, leaving the hero of the scene and the other impor- 
tant personages, as conspicuous as possible. Alfred, inspirited by the news 
brought by Ella, has thrown off his disguise, and stands before the aston- 
ished and affrighted peasants, in all the dignity and distinction of their king. 
This attitude is appropriate to the last two lines of the piece — 
" Till dove-like peace return to England's shore, 
And war and slaughter vex the land no more." 

Scene 2 — Inside the Cottage. 

{Gandelin busy in preparing cakes for Breakfast. — Enter 
Gubba and Alfred.) 

Gubba. Wife, I am very weary ; I have been chopping 
wood all day. 

Gandelin. You are always ready for your supper, but it is 
not ready for you, I assure you; the cakes will take an hour 
to bake, and the sun is yet high ; it has not yet dipped be- 
hind the old barn. But who can you have with you, I trow ? 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 297 

Alfred, Good mother, I am a stranger, and entreat you to 
afford me food and shelter. 

Gandelin. Good mother, quotha ! Good wife, if you 
please, and welcome. But I do not love strangers, and the 
land has no reason to love them. It has never been a merry 
day for Old England since strangers came into it. 

Alfred. I am not a stranger in England, though I am a 
stranger here ; Iaraa true born Englishman. 

Gubba. And do you hate those wicked Danes, that eat us 
up, and burn our houses, and drive away our cattle ? 

Alfred. I do hate them. 

Gandelin. Heartily ! He does not speak heartily, husband. 

Alfred. Heartily I hate them ; most heartily. 

Gubba. Give me thy hand then ; thou art an honest fellow. 

Alfred. I was with king Alfred in the last battle he fought. 

Gandelin. With king Alfred ? Heaven bless him ! 

Gubba. What is become of our good king ? 

Alfred. Did you love him, then 1 

Gubba. Yes, as much as a poor man may love a king ; 
and kneeled down and prayed for him every night, that he 
might conquer those Danish 'wolves : but it was not to be so. 

Alfred. You could not love Alfred better than I did. 

Gubba. But what has become of him ? 

Alfred. He is thought to be dead. 

Gubba. Well, these are sad times ; Heaven help us ! 
Come, you shall be welcome to share the brown loaf with 
us ; I suppose you are too sharp set to be nice. 

Gandelin. Ay, come with us ; you shall be as welcome 
as a prince ! But hark ye, husband ; though I am very 
willing to be charitable to this stranger, — it would be a sin to 
be otherwise, — yet there is no reason he should not do some- 
thing to maintain himself: he looks strong and capable. 

Gubba. Why that's true. What can ycu do, friend? 

Alfred. I am very willing to help you in anything you 
choose to set me about. It will please me best to earn my 
bread before I eat it. 

Gubba. Let me see. Can you tie up fagots neatly ? 

Alfred. I have not been used to it. I am afraid I should 
be awkward. 

Gubba. Can you thatch ? There is a piece blown off the 
cow-house yonder. 

Alfred. Alas, I cannot thatch. 

Gandelin. Ask him if he can weave rushes ; we want 
some new baskets. 

Alfred. I have never learned. 



298 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

Gubba. Can you stack hay ? 

Alfred. No. 

Gubba. Why, here 's a fellow ! and yet he hath as many 
pair of hands as his neighbors. Dame, can you employ him 
in the house ? He might lay wood on the fire, and rub the 
tables. 

Gandelin. Nay let him watch the cakes then, at the fire. 
I must go and milk the kine. 

Gubba. And I '11 go and stack the wood, since supper is 
not ready. 

Gandelin. But pray observe, friend ! do not let the cakes 
burn ; turn them often on the hearth. 

Alfred. I shall observe your directions. {Exeunt Gubba 
and Gandelin.) 

Alfred. For myself, I could bear it ; but England, my 
bleeding country, for thee my heart is wrung with bitter an- 
guish ! — From the Humber to the Thames, the rivers are 
stained with blood ! My brave soldiers cut to pieces ! — My 
poor people — some massacred, others driven from their warm 
homes, stripped, abused, insulted : — and I, whom Heaven ap- 
pointed their sheperd, unable to rescue my defenseless flock 
from the ravenous jaws of these devourers ! — Gracious Heav- 
en ! if I am not worthy to save this land from the Danish 
sword, raise up some other hero to fight with more success 
than I have done, and let me spend my life in this obscure 
cottage, in these servile offices ; I shall be content, if Eng* 
land is happy. Oh ! here come my blunt host and hostess* 

Enter Gubba and Gandelin, with a pail of milk borne on her 

head. 

Gandelin. Help me down with the pail, husband. This 
new milk, with the cakes, will make an excellent supper. 
{Goes to the fire for the cakes.) {Returning.) 

Gandelin. Mercy on us, how they are burnt ! black as 
my shoe ; they have not once been turned ; you oaf, you 
lubber, you lazy loon 

Alfred. Indeed, dame, I am sorry for it ; but my mind 
was full of sad thoughts. 

Gubba. Come, wife, you must forgive him ; perhaps he 
is in love. I remember when I was in love with thee 

Gandelin. You remember ! 

Gubba. Yes, dame, I do remember it, though it is many 
a long year since ; my mother was making a kettle of fur- 
mety — -r-, 

Gandelin. Pry'thee, hold thy silly tongue^ and let us eat 



LESSONS FOR SPEAKING. 299 

our suppers ; come, friend, sit down. {They sit. Gandelin 
distributes the basins, cakes, 8fC. They eat a short time in si- 
lence.) 

Alfred. How refreshing is this new milk, and this whole- 
some bread. 

Gubba. Eat heartily, friend. Where shall we lodge him, 
Gandelin ? 

Gandelin. We have but one bed, you know; but there is 
fresh straw in the barn. 

Alfred. {Aside.) If I shall not lodge like a king, at least 
I shall lodge like a soldier. Alas ! how many of my poor 
soldiers are stretched on the bare ground ! 

Gandelin. What noise do I hear? It is the trampling of 
horses. Good husband, go and see what is the matter. 

Alfred. Heaven forbid my misfortunes should bring de- 
struction on this simple family ! I had rather have perished 
in the wood. 

Gubba returns, followed by Ella, with his sword drawn, and 

Soldiers. 
Gandelin. Mercy defend us — a sword ! 
Gubba. The Danes ! The Danes ! O do not kill us. 
Ella. {Kneeling.) My liege, my lord, my sovereign; 
have I found you? 

Alfred. {Embracing him.) My brave Ella ! 
Ella. I bring you good news, my sovereign ; your troops 
that were shut up in Kinwith castle, made a desperate sally. 
The Danes were slaughtered. The fierce Hubba lies gasp- 
ing on the plain. 

Alfred. Is it possible ! Am I yet a king ? 
Gubba and Gandelin. The king ! 

Ella. Their famous standard, the Danish raven, is taken ; 
their troops are panic-struck ; the English soldiers call aloud 
for Alfred. Here is a letter which will inform you* of more 
particulars. {Gives a letter.) 

Gubba. {Aside.) What will become of us I Ah dame, 
that tongue of thine, that tongue of thine has undone us ! 

Gandelin. O, my poor dear husband ! we shall all be 
hanged, that's certain. But who could have thought it was 
the king ? 

Gubba. Why, Gandelin, do you see, we might have 
guessed he was born to be a king, or some such great man, 
because, you know, he was fit for nothing else. 

Alfred. {Coming forward.) God be praised for these ti- 
dings ! Hope is sprung up out of the depths of despair. O, 
my friend ! shall I again shine in arms, — again fight at the 



300 THE YOUNG SPEAKER. 

head of my brave Englishmen, — lead them on to victory. 
Our friends shall now lift their heads again. 

Gandelin. Ah, husband, what will become of us ! 

Ella. Yes, you have many friends, who have long been 
obliged, like their master, to skulk in deserts and caves, and 
wander from cottage to cottage. When they hear you are 
alive, and in arms again, they will leave their fastnesses, 
and flock to your standard. 

Alfred. I am impatient to meet them ; my people shall 
be revenged. 

Gubba and Gandelin. (Throwing themselves on their knees 
at the feet of Alfred.) O, my lord 

Gandelin. We hope your Majesty will put us to a merci- 
ful death. Indeed, we did not know your Majesty's grace. 

Gubba. If your Majesty could but pardon my wife's 
tongue : she means no harm, poor woman ! 

Alfred. Pardon you, good people ! I not only pardon you, 
but thank you. Rise and be happy. You have afforded me 
protection in my distress ; and if ever I am seated again on the 
throne of England, my first care shall be to reward your 
hospitality. (Gubba and Gandelin appear delighted.) I am 
now going to protect you. Come, my faithful Ella, to arms ! 
to arms ! My bosom burns to face once more the haughty 
Dane ; and here I vow to Heaven, that I will never sheathe 
the sword against these robbers, till either I lose my life in 
this just cause, or 

Till dove-like peace return to England's shore, 
And war and slaughter vex the land no more. 



CLASS OR CONCERT SPEAKING. 

The frontispiece exhibits a class of seven boys arranged for this exercise, 
but any number varying from twelve to twenty will be convenient, if the 
platform allow of their being properly placed. Even a larger number might 
be taught with advantage. At a recent exhibition, a class of more than 
seventy little fellows, from six to twelve years old, declaimed in this way, 
and their performance elicited much applause. In the first place, the piece 
to be spoken, should be well committed to memory by every pupil. The 
instructor then, standing in front of the class, speaks the first sentence — or 
as much of it as he thinks proper — giving the appropriate gesticulation. 
The pupils immediately follow him, copying his tones, look and action, as 
nearly as possible. Thus the whole piece is gene through with, over and 
over again. When the class are able to go through the whole piece proper- 
ly, by themselves, they are heard individually, for the purpose of correcting 
such slight faults as may have escaped the instructor's notice in the col- 
lective training. These performances are animating, poetical, and beautiful. 
Having taught my pupils on this plan for more than fourteen years, I can 
assert it to be an excellent one ; it produces great results with little labor. 



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